iiiiniiiliiii!)}!^ 


««!■. 


ill 


GIFT  or 
Gladys  Isaacson 


tories  of 

Jctoisj)  ftome 


^^XXt/*^/*^  f^  <M  <M  tj^ 


Trmnslmtei  from  the  Gtrmmn 


Philadelphia 

The    Jewish    Publication    Society    of    America 

1907 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
•  •  •    •  •    • 

The  Jhwi^jJ  RuBLicATio^rSUDCjETY^oF  America 


GIFT  OF 
GLADYS     /SAAOSCN 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Aunt  Guttraud   g 

schlemihlchen   47 

Ray's   Mine   133 

Jephthah's  Daughter   217 

Raschelchen    315 

Glossary    385 


i7.2?848 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 

For  the  Friday  evening  meal,  as  the 
"  entrance  to  the  Sabbath,"  we  Jews  have 
always  regarded  fish  an  absolute  essential. 
I  do  not  know  the  historic  explanation  of 
the  fact.  The  Bible  mentions  only  two  fav- 
orite national  foods,  onions  and  garlic. 
Whether  the  piscatory  dish  had  its  origin  in 
the  fishing  of  Peter,  or  in  the  miracle  of  the 
fishes,  it  is  for  the  archaeologists  to  deter- 
mine. So  much,  however,  I  do  know,  that 
in  my  native  city,  where  Protestants  pre- 
ponderated, and  there  were,  besides,  a 
sprinkling  of  Catholics  and  a  considerable 
number  of  Jews,  it  was  almost  exclusively 
for  the  Jews  that  the  peasants  of  the  vicin- 
ity held  market  every  Friday  at  the  so-called 
"  Fischstein."  Here  Jewish  buyers  of  both 
sexes  came  to  purchase  their  portion  of 
"  Shabbesfish,"  the  women  carrying  the  fish 
9 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

(    *     *        c     «        < 
t         «    >*    (      <  « 

,.J;on}e  .in.nets  of  greater  or  less  cleanliness, 
*  ihe.  iRten;.  •'£ athers  of  families,  in  handker- 
chiefs of  a  similar  degree  of  cleanliness. 

The  dish  has  a  ceremonial  aspect.  The 
quality  of  the  fish  marks  the  importance  of 
the  feast.  The  three  great  festivals  claim 
salmon  as  their  own;  the  lesser  holidays, 
carp  with  Spartan  sauce ;  while  the  ordinary 
Sabbaths  have  to  content  themselves  with 
barbel  and  dace. 

But  my  mother,  without  regard  for  the 
rank  of  the  fish,  always  prepared  them  with 
her  own  hands,  because  my  father  declared 
that  no  one  in  the  world  could  make  fish 
sauce  "  a  la  mother."  And  it  was  with  just 
pride  that  every  Friday  forenoon  she  would 
tie  her  white  apron  about  her  waist,  and  set 
herself  to  cooking  the  Friday  evening  fish. 

My  little  sister  and  myself  were  permitted 
to  hang  on  to  each  string  and  witness  this 
marvel  of  the  culinary  art.  When  she 
removed  the  pieces  of  fish  from  the  shining 
brass  kettle,  and  laid  them  symmetrically; 
10 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


upon  a  long  platter  (the  fish  were  served 
cold  in  the  evening) ,  she  never  failed  to  put 
the  most  meaty  piece,  including  the  head 
and  a  goodly  portion  next  to  the  head,  on  a 
separate  plate,  garnish  it  with  onions  and 
slices  of  lemon,  pour  over  it  the  sauce  smel- 
ling of  spices,  and  place  the  dish  on  the 
scoured  serving  table,  at  the  same  time 
saying, 

"  For  Aunt  Guttraud." 

Every  week  we  children  saw  the  offering 
of  this  enviable  tribute,  unable  to  account 
for  the  necessity  imposed  upon  us  of  get- 
ting along  with  headless  fish. 

Aunt  Guttraud  was  a  sister  of  my 
mother's  mother.  She  never  set  foot  out- 
side her  sorry  dwelling  near  the  old  Shul, 
the  orthodox  synagogue,  where  she  lived 
with  a  sick  husband  and  two  daughters,  who 
were  no  longer  young.  My  mother  always 
mentioned  her  name  with  an  expression  of 
pious  reverence,  which  carried  us  children 
along  in  its  fervor,  though  we  could  not 
11 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

comprehend  it.  Nor  did  we  ever  ask  the 
cause  of  it,  and  our  respectful  timidity 
waxed  into  holy  awe  when,  after  the  Friday 
evening  service,  we  ascended  the  wooden 
staircase,  provided  with  a  cord  in  place  of  a 
railing,  and  entered  Aunt  Guttraud's  home, 
to  be  blessed  by  the  old  woman,  a  custom 
introduced  by  our  mother. 

To  this  very  day  the  picture  of  the  room 
is  vivid  in  my  mind.  I  can  even  smell  its 
smell.  The  memory  of  the  olfactory  sense 
is  tenacious.  For  while  I  am  writing,  I  am 
breathing  in  that  atmosphere  of  cabbage 
steam,  illuminating  oil,  and  camphor  which 
tightened  my  breast  fifty  years  ago,  and 
which  always  recalls  Aunt  Guttraud  when 
It  happens  to  assail  my  nostrils  in  the  habita- 
tions of  the  poor. 

It  was  not  without  inner  reluctance  that 
we  children  entered  her  room.  It  was  long 
and  low.  A  seven-beaked  brass  lamp 
depended  from  the  blackened  cross-beam  of 
the  ceiling,  two  of  its  lips  spurting  the  flame 
12 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


of  a  wick  dipped  in  oil.  It  threw  a  garish 
light  on  the  round  table  beneath,  covered 
with  a  white  cloth,  while  the  rest  of  the 
dreary  chamber  lay  in  a  dusky  half-light. 
The  worm-eaten  floor  was  strewn  with 
white  sand,  which  cracked  weirdly  under 
our  feet.  In  a  corner,  in  the  depths  of  the 
room  glimmered  an  iron  coal-stove;  from 
the  ash  grate  the  wind  drove  puffing  little 
gray  clouds.  In  the  other  corner  stood  a 
bed  hung  with  red  and  blue  checked  calico, 
where  our  aunt's  husband — we  never  called 
him  uncle — lay  sick  of  the  gout,  his  hands 
and  feet  wrapped  in  camphor  bags.  Near 
the  bed,  in  a  leather  arm-chair,  sat  our  aunt. 
Holding  a  thick  prayer-book  bound  in 
leather  in  her  hand  and  still  moving  her  lips 
mutely  in  prayer,  she  arose  to  welcome  us. 
Our  mother  reached  out  her  hand  with  a 
gesture  as  in  obeisance  to  the  old  woman, 
who  laid  our  mother's  head  softly  on  her 
shoulder,  and  repeatedly  stroked  her  fore- 
head with  the  palm  of  her  hand. 
13 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Bless  my  children,  Aunt  Guttraud !  " 

Our  mother  never  failed  to  say  this,  for 
the  humble  old  woman  seemed  to  wait  for 
the  request. 

She  took  a  few  steps  forward  into  the 
lighter  part  of  the  room,  where  we  children 
cowered  timidly  at  the  edge  of  the  table. 

Aunt  Guttraud  was  of  medium  height  and 
spare.  Her  figure  was  bent,  or  rather 
broken,  and  was  enveloped  in  a  close-fitting 
dark  printed  calico  gown,  and  her  pale  face 
seemed  waxen  yellow  in  contrast  with  the 
white  kerchief  that  lay  crossed  over  her 
breast  without  the  least  attempt  at  adorn- 
ment. A  black  band  carefully  held  in  the 
hair  over  her  forehead,  and  a  white  tulle 
cap  framed  the  severe,  aristocratic  face. 
Her  finely  cut  nose  was  like  transparent 
ivory.  When  the  narrow  lips  parted,  they 
revealed  the  white  of  well-preserved  teeth. 
Dark  eyebrows  arched  proudly  over  the 
deer-brown  eyes,  which  shone  with  a  moist 
gleam,  as  from  behind  tears. 
14 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


As  she  laid  her  thin  parchment  hands 
upon  our  heads,  her  eyes  turned  soul  fully 
toward  heaven,  and  her  lips  moved  so  softly 
in  the  formula  of  the  blessing,  that  we  heard 
only  the  buzzing  of  the  flies  about  the  hang- 
ing-lamp and  the  low  groaning  from  behind 
the  curtains  that  hid  the  sick  man  from 
view.  Then  she  kissed  us  on  our  foreheads, 
and  we  drew  her  withered  hand  to  our  lips 
hesitatingly.  With  scarcely  audible  steps 
the  old  woman  moved  to  a  glass  cupboard, 
where  a  few  painted  cups  peered  out  from 
behind  the  dull  panes,  and  took  two  Bors- 
dorf  pippins  from  a  drawer.  We  munched 
them  while  our  mother,  yielding  to  an  insist- 
ent invitation  to  sit  down,  carried  on  a  sub- 
dued conversation  with  her  aunt. 

"Well,  how  goes  it,  aunt?" 

"  Thank  God,  not  bad.  The  gout  is  stub- 
bom,  especially  in  autumn,  but  the  Lord  will 
help." 

"  Did  you  get  any  sleep  last  night  ?  " 

"A  little.  Old  people  don't  need  much 
16 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

sleep.  He  sleeps  little,  too.  But  he  has  an 
appetite,  thank  the  Lord,  and  he  enjoys  the 
fish  very  much.  Nobody  cooks  them  like 
my  Betty." 

"  Won't  you  take  a  meal  with  us  once, 
dear  aunt  ?  You  promised  me  long  ago  you 
would." 

"  I  will,  some  time,  when  I  can  get  away 
from  him.  I'd  rather  send  you  one  of  the 
girls.  They  sew  their  eyes  out — good  chil- 
dren !     God  bless  them !  " 

"  And  how  do  you  feel  ?  " 

"  I  ?  Thank  God  he's  no  worse.  Praised 
be  the  Healer  of  the  sick,  and  blessed  be  He 
who  comforts  the  ill  of  body  and  supports 
them  that  totter!" 

And  the  thin  hand  was  raised  over  the 
head  of  our  mother,  who  sank  her  eyes 
humbly  before  the  deep,  moist  glance  of  the 
old  woman. 

There  is  a  knock  at  the  door.  Our 
mother  rises.  The  apples  have  been  con- 
sumed. We  draw  a  breath  of  relief  as  we 
16 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


pass  through  the  narrow  doorway  into  the 
narrow  street. 

*'  Children,"  says  our  mother,  "  Aunt 
Guttraud  is  a  saint  in  Israel." 

We  believed  her — saints  are  honored,  and 
the  world  does  not  ask  why.  Children  do 
not  demand  proofs.  Our  great-aunt  stood 
far  removed  from  our  childish  interests. 
She  towered  in  our  life  only  by  the  height 
of  a  fish's  head,  and  impressed  it  with  the 
weight  of  an  apple.  And  the  curtailment 
was  soon  forgotten,  when  we  got  our  ample 
portion,  if  not  of  the  fish,  which  might  have 
been  too  dangerous  to  our  gullets  because  of 
its  bones,  at  least  of  the  sauce  "  a  la 
mother." 

/ 

Some  twenty  years  later   I   came  back 

home  from  the  university.  How  changed  I 
found  everything,  and  how  strange !  Death 
with  the  help  of  his  most  zealous  servant, 
the  cholera,  had  reaped  a  plenteous  harvest. 
My  father  lay  out  there  in  the  "  good  place." 
17 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

As  for  all  the  others  whose  decease  had  been 
reported  to  me  from  time  to  time,  my  heart 
preserved  scarcely  a  recollection  of  them. 
My  home  was  almost  deserted.  My  brothers 
lived  scattered  abroad,  and  my  sister  was 
married.  Yet  my  mother  did  not  reign  in 
loveless  rule  over  a  desert  spot;  for  her 
heart  embraced  humanity  at  large,  and  she 
was  the  focus  of  the  diverging  rays  of  the 
family.  She  had  become  providence  to  all 
the  poor  and  suffering  of  the  community. 

Our  meeting  after  the  long  separation 
was  sad.  We  embraced  in  silence,  each 
desiring  to  spare  the  feelings  of  the  other. 
But  the  quiet  only  added  to  the  oppress- 
iveness in  the  desolate  house. 

"  Let  us  go  to  our  dear  ones ! "  said  my 
mother. 

I  wanted  to  go  alone  for  her  sake,  but  she 
smiled  and  said : 

"  It's  my  usual  walk.  The  '  good  place ' 
is  my  garden,  my  Persepolis." 

About  three  miles  from  the  city  the  Jew- 
18 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


ish  cemetery  lies  on  a  hill  at  the  edge  of  an 
oak  grove.  If  one  wants  to  avoid  the  dirty 
village,  he  takes  the  path  through  the 
"  forest,"  a  meadow  edged  with  poplar  trees 
and  covered  with  saffron.  My  mother  car- 
ried the  key  of  the  cemetery  gate  as  for  her 
own  home.  We  wandered  about  among 
friends  and  acquaintances,  and  every  tomb- 
stone sent  us  the  greeting  of  a  familiar 
name. 

We  had  paid  our  tribute  of  mourning  at 
my  father's  grave,  and  with  hearts  some- 
what lightened  walked  through  the  rows  of 
graves,  now  and  then  picking  up  stones  to 
lay  as  mementos  upon  the  last  abiding-places 
of  our  relatives  and  friends.  My  mother 
halted  before  a  flat  stone  whose  Hebrew 
inscription  it  was  difficult  for  me  to  deci- 
pher, and  she  said  in  a  moved  voice,  as  if 
introducing  some  beloved  friend: 

"Aunt  Guttraud." 

The  memory  from  my  childhood  suddenly 
arose  before  me — the  picture  of  the  old 
19 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

woman  veiled  in  mystery.  Before  the  insol- 
uble riddle  of  death,  my  heart  for  the  first 
time  experienced  a  strong  desire  to  find  out 
the  reason  of  the  peculiar  reverence  paid 
this  "  saint  in  Israel."  I  seated  myself  on 
the  edge  of  the  stone,  and  drew  my  mother 
into  the  shade  of  a  weeping  willow,  which 
she  herself  had  planted  there. 

"  What  is  this  veneration  you  bring  Aunt 
Guttraud  even  in  her  grave?  How  great 
she  must  have  been  if  a  soul  like  yours  bows 
before  her  in  awe !  " 

My  mother,  almost  terrified,  fended  off 
the  comparison. 

"  Child,  how  can  you  compare  me  with 
that  martyr?  God  in  his  mercy  granted 
me  rare  joy  in  my  children.  When  grief 
came  to  me,  it  was  only  the  common  lot  of 
humanity  that  I  experienced.  She  was  the 
holiest  of  sufferers,  a  heroine  of  humility, 
a  martyr  to  fidelity.  A  sacrifice  for  love's 
sake  we  can  readily  comprehend,  because 
most  of  us  consider  ourselves  capable  of 
20 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


making  it.  But  Aunt  Guttraud  stands  alone. 
She  sacrificed  herself  to  her  loyalty.  I  never 
told  you  children  of  her  life,  because  the 
halo  surrounding  her  covers  a  blot  on  the 
family  scutcheon.  A  child's  nature  should 
not  be  clouded  by  the  recital  of  man's  errors 
and  transgressions.  But  now  that  you 
know  life  with  its  lights  and  shadows,  I 
need  not  hesitate  to  tell  you  Aunt  Guttraud's 
story. 

"  She  was  an  older  sister  of  my  mother, 
your  sainted  grandmother — blessed  be  her 
memory!  She  was  married  in  a  town  not 
far  from  the  capital,  and  we  heard  little 
of  her  until  her  husband  died,  and  she  moved 
over  here  with  her  two  daughters.  She  had 
enough  to  provide  for  the  necessities  of 
modest  people.  She  was  a  practiced  hand  at 
bead  embroidery,  and  the  girls  took  in  sew- 
ing. Despite  her  forty  years  she  was  still 
a  handsome  woman.  I  remember  with 
what  an  aristocratic  air  she  walked. 

"  That  was  in  the  French  times,  when 
n 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Jerome  Bonaparte  was  king,  and  held  his 
court  here,  and  a  crowd  of  adventurers 
came  over  from  France  and  Alsace  to  settle 
in  our  city.  Then  everything  was  gay,  and 
humbug  reigned  supreme,  and  in  the  newer 
part  of  the  city  shops  were  built  as  big  and 
magnificent  as  along  the  Zeil  in  Frankfort. 
The  finest  was  opened  by  two  brothers,  Alsa- 
tian Jews.  The  news  that  the  elder  had  en- 
gaged himself  to  Aunt  Guttraud  created  a 
vast  deal  of  excitement  in  the  Jewish  com- 
munity. Probably  his  chief  motive  was  to 
get  into  our  family,  which  was  among  the 
most  honored,  though  not  the  richest.  Be- 
sides, Aunt  Guttraud  in  her  white  wedding 
coif  looked  a  really  beautiful,  regal  woman. 
"  I  was  still  a  girl,  and  danced  at  the  wed- 
ding, which  was  held  in  the  town  hall.  My 
mother  of  blessed  memory  came  home  from 
the  wedding  feast  shaking  her  head  sadly. 
The  extravagant  goings-on  had  depressed 
her,  and  the  bridegroom's  personality  had 
filled  her  with  repugnance. 
22 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


"  *  There  was  no  rustle  to  his  swaddling 
clothes/  she  said,  to  designate  the  upstart. 

"Alas,  she  had  seen  only  too  clearly. 
Aunt's  marriage  was  not  a  happy  one.  Her 
gentle,  refined  heart  suffered  under  her  hus- 
band's coarseness.  It  was  said,  he  actually 
maltreated  her,  though  she  stubbornly  denied 
it 

"  The  step-daughters  comforted  them- 
selves with  their  finer  clothes,  and  with  the 
fact  that  they  no  longer  needed  to  work  for 
other  people.  Aunt  remained  exactly  what 
she  had  been  before  her  marriage,  but  we 
withdrew  more  and  more  from  her  house, 
because  a  deep-seated  aversion  led  us  always 
to  regard  our  new  uncle  as  a  stranger. 

"  The  '  French  period  '  passed.  The  Elec- 
tor was  reinstated  by  the  three  allies.  I  was 
among  the  *  white  maidens '  who  received 
him  at  the  Weser  Gate.  But  as  everybody 
then  said,  the  times  had  only  grown  worse. 
The  Westphalian  court  had  set  much  money 
afloat  in  the  city.  Now,  however,  that  there 
23 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

was  no  longer  luxurious  living  to  provide 
for,  the  wealth  of  the  people  passed  away. 
They  made  a  virtue  of  simplicity,  and  one 
after  another  of  the  large  shops  shut  down. 
The  Alsatian  brothers  shared  the  common 
lot.  One  of  them  absconded ;  the  other  grew 
poorer  and  poorer,  and  with  the  loss  of  his 
money  his  brutality  only  increased,  and  Aunt 
Guttraud's  resignation  also.  She  set  herself 
again  to  stringing  beads  into  little  green 
purses  and  selling  them  herself;  while  the 
girls  started  a  sewing  school,  and  made 
shirts  for  customers.  Nevertheless,  if  one 
of  her  relatives  offered  Aunt  Guttraud  any 
help,  she  always  declined  it  with  resolute 
pride : 

"  *  He  will  provide  enough  for  his 
family ! ' 

"  By  this  time  I  had  been  married  a  year, 
and  your  good  father  would  gladly  have  per- 
mitted me  to  do  something  for  my  poor 
aunt.  When  he  was  away — which  happened 
for  half  a  week  at  a  time — I  would  visit 
24 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


her,  and  I  saw  how  her  full  face  was  grow- 
ing thin  and  pale  from  inner  grief,  though 
no  word  of  complaint  ever  passed  her  lips. 
It  was  only  in  secret  that  I  dared  to  slip 
little  supplies  of  coffee  and  sugar  into  the 
hands  of  the  daughters.  I  recognized  their 
mother's  dresses  in  their  warm  underskirts, 
and  guessed  that  this  was  the  reason  why  she 
wore  a  thin  cotton  dress  even  on  cold  winter 
days.  She  would  say  of  her  husband  that 
he  had  *  gone  away  *  on  business,  and  she 
believed  what  she  said.  But  a  most  peculiar 
circumstance  was  connected  with  his  *  going 
away.'  It  set  the  community  gossiping  that 
he  returned  with  money  in  his  pocket  and  a 
watch-chain  with  a  gold  seal. 

"  You  know,  my  child,  that  at  that  time 
every  little  German  principality  demanded 
its  own  customs  duties,  and  we  were  barred 
from  Hanover  as  well  as  from  Frankfort. 
The  large  amount  of  goods  that  came  to  us, 
especially  from  Hamburg,  was  heavily  taxed 
at  the  boundary,  at  Landwehrhagen.    As  a 

26 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

result,  all  sorts  of  hiding-places  were  estab- 
lished, to  which  smugglers  carried  their 
wares  in  the  dark,  and  then,  clandestinely, 
transported  them  to  the  city.  The  border 
guards  chased  up  and  down  by  day  and  by 
night  to  discover  and  raid  these  dens,  if  for 
no  other  reason  than  that  every  thief  found 
a  good  market  in  them  for  his  stolen  arti- 
cles. The  penalty  attached  to  smuggling 
and  concealing  goods  was  constantly  in- 
creased, and  no  mercy  was  shown  those  who 
were  detected. 

"  One  day,  in  the  week  before  the  great 
festivals,  the  news  came  that  one  of  these 
thieves'  and  smugglers'  cellars  had  been 
raided  at  Landwehrhagen,  and  the  ring- 
leaders were  being  brought  to  town  in  hand- 
cuffs. I  listened  to  the  report  rather  indif- 
ferently, and,  Jewish  housewife  that  I  was, 
who  had  little  time  for  leaning  out  of  the 
window,  I  should  have  seen  nothing  of  the 
hubbub  the  event  created,  had  I  not  hap- 
pened to  be  cleaning  windows  just  as  the 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


prisoners  were  being  driven  to  the  barracks 
in  an  open  wagon  escorted  on  each  side  by- 
border  guards.  The  yells  of  the  rabble,  in 
which  I  caught  the  cry  *  Yidde,  Yidde/ 
made  me  lean  my  head  out  of  the  window, 
and  I  nearly  fell  to  the  floor  from  the  shock 
of  the  sight  that  met  my  eyes.  I  had  to  hold 
on  to  the  window  frame  for  support. 
There,  on  the  front  bench  in  the  wagon, 
with  hands  bound  across  each  other,  sat  he, 
the  wretched  husband  of  my  poor  Aunt 
Guttraud. 

"  How  shall  I  tell  you,  my  child  ?  Fright 
lamed  my  legs  and  feet.  The  turmoil  in 
the  city  was  worse  than  at  a  conflagration. 
Our  neighbors  stood  in  front  of  their  doors, 
and  stuck  their  heads  out  of  the  windows, 
screaming  invectives  at  him  and  all  the 
Jews.  I  quickly  pulled  down  our  window 
shades. 

"  Your  father  came  from  his  office  ashen 
pele.  The  whole  Jewish  community  was 
struck  by  the  blow.     If  a  single  Jew  com- 

27 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

mits  a  folly,  all  his  co-religionists  must 
pay  the  penalty.  But  I  didn't  think  of  the 
community  when  your  father  told  me  that 
for  a  long  time  the  head  of  the  smugglers 
had  been  that  wretched  husband  of  Aunt 
Guttraud. 

" '  Poor  Aunt  Guttraud ! '  was  all  I  could 
utter. 

"  *  Go  over  to  her^'  your  father  suggested 
^    in  his  goodness  of  heart. 

"  I  went.  It  was  the  first  time,  I  think, 
I  ever  walked  the  streets  with  my  head  bare. 
On  the  way  I  wanted  to  think  over  what  I 
should  say  to  my  aunt  to  comfort  her.  But 
nothing  occurred  to  me  except 
^      "'Poor  Aunt  Guttraud!' 

"  When  I  reached  her  home,  I  found  the 
girls  in  a  state  of  wild,  tearless  despair. 
Their  bitter  curses  disgusted  me.  They  told 
me  their  mother  had  gone  away,  they  didn't 
know  where,  whether  to  the  police,  to  the 
prison,  or  the  president  of  the  congregation. 
For  a  long  time  they  had  suspected  the 
28 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


thing,  though  he  had  squandered  his  ill- 
gotten  gains  on  himself,  and  had  never 
brought  any  of  the  money  home.  They 
had  always  hated  him,  they  said,  but  their 
mother  was  blind  to  his  faults,  and  would 
not  permit  a  word  to  be  breathed  against 
him — not  that  she  loved  him,  or  held  him  to 
be  better  than  he  was,  but  submissiveness 
and  loyalty  had  waxed  in  her  to  a  foolish 
passion.  Now,  they  declared,  they  were  all 
dishonored,  and  there  was  nothing  left  them 
to  do  but  jump  into  the  Fulda.  With  great 
difficulty  I  was  getting  them  to  restrain 
their  dismal  clamors  and  outcries,  when  the 
door  opened,  and  in  walked  Aunt  Guttraud. 

"  I  was  amazed  to  see  her  erect  and 
almost  unchanged,  except  that  her  face  was 
paler  than  ever,  and  deep  blue  rings  lay 
under  her  large  brown  eyes.  Her  eyelids 
twitched  constantly  as  if  from  visible  pulse- 
beats.  I  threw  myself  on  her  neck  sobbing. 
The  girls  became  silent. 

"  *  My  dear  good  Betty,'  she  said  quietly, 
29 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

'  it  is  a  severe  ordeal  to  which  God  is  sub- 
jecting us,  but  what  God  does  is  well  done.' 

"'God  did  it,  did  He?'  screamed  the 
older  daughter,  with  an  hysterical,  heart- 
rending laugh. 

"  Her  mother  drew  herself  up  to  her  full 
height.  Her  look  fairly  annihilated  her 
daughter. 

"  *  You  condemn  him  before  our  enemies 
condemn  him?  Has  it  been  proved  what 
he's  done?  And  if  he  did  it,  for  whom  was 
it  ?  In  order  to  give  us  better  days — ^because 
he  felt  sorry  for  your  needle-pricked  fingers, 
he  turned  his  own — I  won't  say  it  in  so  many 
words.  God  have  mercy  on  him!  But  if 
people  have  no  mercy  on  him,  if,  God  for- 
bid, the  others  condemn  him  and  desert  him, 
I  am  his  wife — under  the  Chuppe  I  swore 
I  should  be  faithful  to  him.  I  will  hear  no 
word  against  him,  else,  so  truly  as  God  lives, 
I  will  have  myself  locked  up  in  the  barracks 
with  him.' 

"  *  Aunt    Guttraud ! '    I    exclaimed,    and 

30 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


with  tears  of  admiration  I  wanted  to  grasp 
her  hand,  but  she  withdrew  it. 

"  *  Why  should  you  marvel  ?  '  she  said  in 
surprise.     *  As  if  there  were  anything  in 
what  I'm  doing!     Are  we  Goyim,  to  cast 
stones  at  our  own  flesh  and  blood?    Thank 
the  Lord,  I  am  a  Jewish  woman,   and  I      \ 
know  what  is  written  in  the  law.     What  I       \ 
think,  every  woman  thinks  who  is  not  a       | 
blasphemer.     You  speak  to  your  husband,      / 
Betty,  my  dear,  he  is  in  favor  with  the  bur- 
gomaster.    I  appealed  in  vain  to  the  Par- 
ness.      He   says   they   don't   dare   mix   in. 
They'll  be  glad  if  they're  not  forced  into  the 
affair  in  spite  of  themselves.    But  the  prison 
commissary,  whom  they  denounced  as  the 
greatest   Roshe,   listened   to   me,   and   per- 
mitted me  to  bring  him  soup  as  long  as  he's 
a  prisoner  there.    So,  at  least,  he  needn't  eat 
Treifes.     And  now,   excuse  me,   Betty,   I 
want  to  go  into  the  kitchen  to  see  that  he 
gets  his  soup.' 

"  She  went  out.     Without  saying  any- 

n 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

thing  to  the  girls,  I  nodded  my  head  toward 
the  saint-Hke  sufferer,  to  show  them  I 
thought  her  an  example  for  them.  As  I  left, 
I  saw  her  in  the  dark  kitchen  getting  the  pot 
ready,  as  carefully  as  though  preparing 
broth  for  a  sick  child." 

My  mother  paused  a  moment  in  her  nar- 
rative, then  said: 

"  You  mustn^t  think,  my  child,  that  this  is 
all.  The  worst  and  the  most  glorious  came 
later. 

"  The  proceedings  lasted  for  weeks,  but 
proofs  and  his  own  confession  were  against 
him.  Evil  things  came  to  light,  which 
wicked  tongues  enlarged  and  noised  about, 
so  that  they  reached  the  ears  of  the  poor 
wife.  Her  demeanor,  however,  remained 
unchanged.  Day  after  day  she  carried  his 
meals  to  the  prison,  and  even  got  permission 
to  see  him  and  speak  to  him  in  the  presence 
of  witnesses.  No  one  ever  heard  her  re- 
proach him.  On  the  contrary,  they  heard 
only  mild,  soothing  words  of  comfort, 
32 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


which,  no  doubt,  she  would  have  uttered 
even  if  no  one  had  been  there  to  hear  her. 
She  never  left  her  house  except  to  see  him, 
never  received  visitors,  and  even  refrained 
from  going  out  to  sell  her  bead  embroider- 
ies, into  which  as  many  tears  were  sewed  as 
beads.  The  only  occasion  that  drew  her 
from  her  home  was  New  Year's  Eve,  when 
she  went  to  Shul  as  usual.  The  pious, 
dressed-up  women  avoided  her,  to  be  sure; 
but  she  paid  no  attention  to  them,  and  re- 
mained in  her  place,  as  had  been  her  wont, 
without  looking  up  from  her  prayer-book. 
She  did  not  raise  her  eyes  until  the  *  Ovinu 
Malkenu,'  and  then,  at  the  words,  *  Remem- 
ber that  we  are  but  dust,'  she  turned  them 
toward  heaven  with  so  fervent,  so  searching 
a  look,  that  she  seemed  to  be  beseeching 
God's  mercy  for  all  earth-born. 

"  Soon  after  Succos  the  verdict  was  pro- 
nounced. Most  of  the  smugglers  came  off 
with  a  light  penalty,  on  the  plea  that  they 
had  been  misled.     But  the  ringleader  was 

33 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

condemned  to  imprisonment  for  ten  years, 
and — I  still  shudder  when  I  speak  of  it — 
to  three  hours'  exposure  in  the  pillory. 

"  The  verdict  was  a  terrible  blow  to  the 
community  as  a  whole.  If  he  had  not  been 
a  Jew,  they  all  said,  the  shame  would  not 
have  been  put  upon  him,  such  a  shame  as 
had  not  been  inflicted  upon  any  man  for  ten 
years.  But  the  government  at  that  time, 
from  gratitude  for  having  won  *  German 
freedom,'  was  very  bigoted,  and  celebrated 
the  eighteenth  of  October  on  the  '  Kratz- 
enberg '  with  a  bonfire,  into  which  it  would 
gladly  have  stuck  every  Jew.  Your  father, 
noble  man  that  he  was,  hurried  to  the  burgo- 
master, once  again,  with  two  deputies  from 
the  congregation.  They  adjured  Schom- 
burg,  who  was  a  liberal-minded  man,  to  pre- 
vent this  stain  from  being  put  upon  the 
Jews.  They  represented  to  him  that  the 
mob  might  take  the  punishment  in  the  pil- 
lory as  the  occasion  for  anti- Jewish  demon- 
strations, and  do  damage  to  Jewish  houses. 

34 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


The  burgomaster  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
He  knew  full  well  whence  the  wind  was 
blowing. 

"  *  I  can  do  nothing  for  him,'  he  said, 
*  but  I  will  look  out  for  the  safety  of  all  the 
others.' 

"  Then  the  relatives  collected  a  hundred 
dollars  among  themselves  to  give  to  the 
Elector's  chamberlain,  who  had  great  influ- 
ence over  the  Elector,  in  order  to  get  him 
to  put  in  a  good  word  for  the  convict.  The 
hundred  dollars  remained  with  the  chamber- 
lain, and  the  horrible  sentence  remained  the 
same. 

"  What  I  suffered  throughout  that  dread- 
ful period  I  can't  describe  to  you.  At  night 
I  would  sit  up  in  bed  for  hours  at  a  time, 
and  cry.  Only  the  sight  of  my  husband  and 
my  children  calmed  me  sufficiently  to  go  to 
sleep.  If  I  succeeded  in  seeing  Aunt  Gut- 
traud  on  her  way  to  the  prison  and  speaking 
to  her,  I  was  filled  with  sheer  astonishment. 
She  was  so  quiet,  so  resigned — as  if  Grod 
85 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

had  sent  down  a  stroke  of  lightning,  or  in- 
flicted death  upon  some  one  dear  to  her, 
and  all  she  could  do  was  bow  her  head  in 
meek  silence.  The  girls  hid  themselves  in 
their  room,  and  would  allow  no  one  to  see 
them.  Each  of  us  took  turns  in  sending 
them  their  meals,  which,  however,  were  al- 
most always  returned  untouched. 

"  On  the  following  Friday  afternoon  the 
terrible  show  was  to  be  presented.  At  that 
time  the  old  town  hall  with  its  slate  roof 
and  pointed  towers  still  stood  on  the  mar- 
ket-place, at  the  corner  of  Fish  Street. 
Under  the  clock  was  the  pretty  legend  : 

"'Eins  Manns  Red'  keins  Manns  Red', 
Du  sollst  die  Part  horen  beed.'  ^ 

Do  you  still  remember  it?  It  was  exactly 
opposite  the  house  in  which  your  sainted 
grandparents  used  to  live.  Right  at  the  cor- 
ner was  a  turret  coming  down  to  the  level  of 

^ "  A  single  man's  testimony  is  as  though  none  had 
spoken.  Thou  shouldst  hearken  to  the  speech  of 
both  parties," 

36 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


the  street,  provided  on  the  outside  with  an 
iron  grill  and  behind  this  a  revolving  screen 
on  which  the  wretched  sinner  was  chained 
and  shoved  out.  There  he  stood,  his  breast 
bared,  a  target  for  the  abusive  language  and 
the  flying  stones  of  the  mob. 

"  These  ghastly  proceedings,  which  re- 
volt every  humane  sentiment  and  arouse  the 
animal  passions,  had  been  abolished  by  the 
*  godless  *  French,  and  reinstituted  by  the 
devout  Evangelical  government! 

"  And  now  he  was  to  be  exposed,  he  who 
unfortunately  belonged  to  our  family,  a 
family  which  never  the  shadow  of  a  stain 
had  touched. 

"  I  shall  always  remember  that  day.  It 
was  worse  for  the  community  than  Tisho 
be-Av.  The  shops  of  the  Jews  were  closed, 
and  not  a  single  Jew  was  to  be  seen  on  the 
streets.  The  children  were  kept  from  school 
to  prevent  the  street  urchins  from  injuring 
them. 

"  I  must  tell  you,  my  child,  that  T  seemed 
87 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

miserable  and  cowardly  for  staying  at  home 
and  thinking  of  myself,  when  poor  Aunt 
Guttraud  was  probably  perishing  in  an 
agony  of  woe.  If  it  is  a  God-pleasing  deed 
to  attend  the  dying,  how  can  one  let  a  person 
remain  alone  whose  soul  is  dying  a  hundred- 
fold death  ?    I  said  this  to  your  father. 

"  *  Do  what  you  want/  he  replied,  *  I  will 
look  out  for  the  children.' 

"  I  took  my  shawl,  and  ran  over  to  Aunt 
Guttraud's,  but  I  found  the  door  locked, 
and  I  shook  it  in  vain.  Her  neighbor,  the 
seamstress  Engelbrecht,  came  to  the  stairs, 
and  told  me  the  girls  had  locked  themselves 
in,  and  the  poor  madam  was  gone. 

"  '  Gone,  gone !     Where  ?  ' 

"  *  Do  I  know  ?  '  she  asked,  shrugging  her 
shoulders.  *  When  a  person's  in  despair, 
he  doesn't  know  what  he  does.  Well,  well, 
I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  woman.' 

"  I  slipped  away  with  even  a  heavier 
heart.  Would  you  believe  it,  child,  I  was 
capable  of  thinking  that  that  saint  in  Israel 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


had  done  what  the  woman  had  suspected 
her  of  doing. 

"  *  Yes/  I  said  to  myself,  *  she's  com- 
mitted some  violence  on  herself.* 

"  How  ashamed  I  was  of  my  suspicions 
when  I  learned  what  she  actually  had  done. 

"  The  hour  had  come.  An  innumerable 
throng  filled  the  market-place.  The  brutal 
mob  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  a  beastly 
spectacle,  and  bawled  abusive  songs,  mock- 
ing the  Jews.  Soldiers  and  police  were 
stationed  about,  and  barred  the  nearest  ap- 
proaches to  the  town  hall.  At  a  large  win- 
dow a  justice  of  the  peace  was  reading  the 
sentence,  which  the  mob  received  with  clam- 
orous applause.  When  he  finished,  the  fate- 
ful screen  began  to  turn,  and  the  unfortu- 
nate wretch  came  into  sight,  his  breast 
bared,  his  head  bowed,  his  face  more  repul- 
sive than  ever  because  of  his  beard  grown 
ragged  in  prison.  A  still  wilder  howl! 
Here  and  there  people  were  already  begin- 
ning to  duck  for  pebbles  to  throw  at  the  man 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

in  the  pillory,  when — Fm  telling  you  the 
story  exactly  as  it  was  told  in  the  daily 
papers — when  the  little  door  of  the  town 
hall  on  Fish  Street  opened,  and  Aunt  Gut- 
traud  stepped  out  into  the  space  kept  clear 
by  the  guards.  Instead  of  crossing  it,  she 
remained  standing  at  the  corner  before  the 
pillory,  caught  hold  of  the  iron  grill  with 
her  bare,  withered  hands,  and  raised  herself 
to  the  platform  of  shame,  where  she  stood 
visible  to  all,  close  by  her  husband,  the  man 
to  whom  she  had  sworn  faithfulness  under 
the  Chuppe. 

"  She  stood  there  for  hours,  and  not  with 
that  look  of  despair  which  is  depicted  on  the 
face  of  the  Madonna  under  the  cross.  No, 
she  stood  calm  and  quiet,  as  if  the  thing 
were  a  matter  of  course.  Her  lips  moved 
softly  as  in  silent  prayer,  her  eyes  remained 
fixed  on  him,  while  he  looked  down  on  her, 
thick  tears  rolling  into  his  beard,  which  he 
could  not  wipe  away. 

"  Her  coming  was  like  a  flash  of  light- 
40 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


ning,  no,  like  a  ray  of  sunlight,  sent  down  by 
God  upon  this  mass  of  humanity.  The 
hurling  of  epithets  and  the  howling  died 
down. 

"  *  His  wife!  His  wife!  His  innocent 
wife!*  was  passed  about  from  mouth  to 
mouth,  in  a  subdued  whisper,  and  so  many 
slipped  away  that  the  guards  no  longer  had 
to  prevent  pushing  and  crowding.  Matthias 
the  pastor,  who  was  going  to  the  *  Brother- 
hood Church '  for  evening  service,  learned 
what  had  happened  in  the  market-place,  and 
he  bent  his  head  reverentially. 

"  The  news  ran  like  wildfire  through  the 
Jewish  community,  and  gradually  all  our 
co-religionists  streamed  to  the  market-place. 
The  feeling  of  shame  had  ebbed  from  every 
heart,  and  was  replaced  by  pride.  The  crime 
that  he  had  committed  was  known  every- 
where and  in  all  times ;  but  such  martyrdom 
for  the  sake  of  marital  fidelity  had  never 
been  heard  of  before.  Everybody  marvelled 
in  silence.  There  was  a  shaking  and  nod- 
41 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ding  of  heads,  and  a  subdued  sobbing.  The 
old  Rav  raised  his  hands,  and  cried  aloud : 

"  *  May  God  pardon  me,  old  as  I  am,  I  do 
not  know  what  Broche  to  pronounce  on  this 
occasion/ 

"  I  have  always  thought  it  was  at  the 
burgomaster's  intervention  that  the  time 
was  curtailed  and  the  man  removed  from 
the  public  gaze.  Now  the  mob  wanted  to 
break  through  the  cordon,  possibly  to  seize 
Aunt  Guttraud  and  carry  her  home  on  their 
shoulders.  But  she  disappeared  through 
the  same  little  door  by  which  she  had  come. 
It  was  in  vain  that  all  tried  to  visit  her,  for 
the  Parness  and  the  entire  community  now 
all  of  a  sudden  found  their  way  to  her 
house.  She  was  with  her  husband  in  his 
cell,  or  had  locked  herself  in  with  her 
daughters. 

"  Once  I  found  her  after  many  fruitless 
attempts,  and  I  fell  on  my  knees,  as  on  the 
Day  of  Atonement  when  they  fall  Korim. 
She  looked  at  me,  rebuke  in  her  eyes. 

42 


AUNT  GUTTRAUD 


"  *  Betty/  she  said,  '  what  a  sin !  What 
would  your  mother  think,  peace  be  with  her  ? 
She  was  ten  times  better  than  I  am/ 

"  When  the  daughter  of  the  Elector  was 
bom,  many  convicts  were  pardoned,  and 
many  had  their  sentence  shortened.  He, 
too,  came  out  of  prison.  But  the  dampness 
of  the  cell  had  entered  his  hands  and  feet, 
and  he  lay  abed  with  the  gout  the  rest  of 
his  life,  as  you  used  to  see  him,  wrapped  in 
camphor  bags  and  nursed  by  his  faithful 
wife  like  a  sick  child.  The  family  got  a 
small  annuity  together,  which  helped  the 
little  household  out,  what  with  the  earnings 
of  the  two  girls  in  addition. 

"  Shortly  after  you  left  the  city,  he  was 
released  from  his  pain.  The  life  duty  of 
the  patient  sufferer  came  to  an  end.  Since 
there  was  no  longer  anything  for  her  to  do 
on  earth,  God  soon  called  her  to  Him.  The 
older  daughter  became  a  teacher  in  an  indus- 
trial school ;  the  younger  married  a  country 
school  teacher. 

43 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

*'  This  is  the  story  of  the  saint  in  Israel 
who  rests  under  this  stone." 

My  mother  arose.  The  sun  was  sinking 
behind  the  grove  of  oaks,  and  shot  out  a 
last  gleam,  which  sparkled  in  her  tear-filled 
eyes. 

"  Are  there  still  such  women  in  Israel  ?  " 
she  asked. 

I  looked  at  her  in  silence,  and  pressed  her 
dear  hands. 


44 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 

Her  real  name  was  Emilchen,  the  diminu- 
tive by  which  the  namesakes  of  Emilia 
Galotti  are  called  in  our  part  of  the  country, 
and  she  was  the  daughter  of  our  cousin 
Katz,  who  became  a  widow  shortly  after 
marriage,  and  was  left  with  only  this  one 
child.  She  was  a  frail  little  thing,  subject 
to  convulsions  from  infancy.  These  often 
recurred  later  in  life,  and  imparted  a  cer- 
tain hesitancy  and  jerkiness  to  her  move- 
ments. Naturally,  the  anxious  mother,  who 
was  the  only  one  with  no  perception  of  her 
ungainliness,  pampered  and  coddled  her. 
With  the  rest  of  the  community,  however, 
these  characteristics  gained  the  nickname  for 
her  that  gives  the  title  to  our  story. 

She  received  it  from  old  Levy,  the  wag 
of  the  Kille,  who  kept  a  little  shop  of  needles 
and  thread  in  Market  Street,  and  possessed 
47 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

a  tongue  even  sharper  than  his  needles. 
When  he  saw  her  for  the  first  time  at  a 
concert  in  the  Park,  shambhng  about  and 
forever  stepping  on  somebody's  foot,  he 
asked : 

"  Who's  that  Menuvelte?  " 

"  Emilchen,"  was  the  answer. 

"  I  should  call  her  Schlemihlchen." 

The  name  stuck  to  her  ever  after. 

According  to  what  I  remember  of  my 
Hebrew  studies,  Shelo-mi-el  means  a  God- 
forsaken creature.  It  is  the  antonym  of 
"  child  of  fortune,"  and  designates  a  person 
who  is  down  on  his  luck,  to  use  a  slang 
expression.  Chamisso  introduced  the  word 
into  German  literature  by  his  story  of  a 
good-natured  fellow,  named  Peter  Schle- 
mihl,  who  wanders  haplessly  through  the 
world  because — he  lacks  a  shadow.  Yes, 
a  Schlemihl  lacks  nothing  but  a  shadow,  or 
rather,  a  light,  a  halo,  an  aura,  which  the 
graces  breathe  upon  mortals  when  they  stand 
at  their  cradles.  The  world  demands  this 
48 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


aroma  of  the  graces  in  every  human  being, 
and  all  the  cardinal  virtues  cannot  replace 
the  lack  of  it  here  below.  '5he  Divine  eye 
alone  disregards  it,  and  our  good  Emilchen, 
I  am  certain,  has  entered  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  even  without  the  kiss  of  the  graces. 

As  I  remember  her,  she  was  a  lank  girl 
with  dark  hair,  large  black  eyes,  and  a  very 
large  mouth  with  irregular,  defective  teeth. 
Her  hands  were  large,  too,  and  still  larger 
were  her  feet,  with  which  she  struck  out  on 
all  sides.  If  she  wore  laced  shoes,  a  string 
was  sure  to  be  dangling  from  them,  if  but- 
toned shoes,  a  loose  button.  A  few  ends  of 
hair  were  always  looking  out  from  her  plaits, 
like  grass  in  spring  peeping  from  the 
ground;  and  stray  locks  fluttered  over  her 
forehead,  which  she  vainly  endeavored  to 
push  back  with  her  hand  or  her  elbow. 

In  the  fairest  weather  she   managed  to 

splash  mud  high  up  on  her  dress  by  carelessly 

stepping  into  a  gutter,  and  she  was  no  less 

skilful  in  wiping  off  fresh  paint  with  her  coat 

49 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

or  shawl.  In  some  inconceivable  way,  her 
hat  would  knock  against  a  lamp  in  front  of 
a  shop,  and  it  would  gain  very  little  in  grace 
when  she  tried  to  restore  its  shape.  If  she 
wanted  to  fondle  one  of  the  little  children  of 
the  family,  she  was  certain  to  stick  a  finger 
in  its  eye,  whereupon  she  would  suffer  more 
severely  than  the  crying  child  itself.  Despite 
her  passionate  entreaties,  she  was  never 
allowed  to  carry  the  children  about,  be- 
cause she  was  sure  to  stumble  over  a  thread 
lying  on  the  carpet.  When  she  sat  down, 
chance  always  put  the  most  rickety  chair 
under  her  body,  and  sent  her  sprawling  on 
the  floor. 

During  dancing  lessons  all  the  girls  tremb- 
led for  the  flounces  of  their  mull  dresses. 
Her  leaden  steps  threatened  her  neighbors 
without  distinction  of  sex.  For  this  reason, 
when  the  time  came  for  the  cavaliers  to 
invite  the  ladies  to  a  square  dance,  she  sat 
alone  pulling  at  her  handkerchief,  until  the 
little  dancing-master  Albrecht  resigned  him- 
50 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


self  mutely  to  his  fate  of  making  up  the 
missing  couple  with  her. 

But  she  bore  all  this  without  bitterness  of 
spirit,  and  the  name  of  Schlemihlchen,  which 
she  heard  applied  to  her  on  every  possible 
occasion,  had  long  lost  its  sting.  At  the  end 
of  the  dancing  lesson  she  would  embrace  her 
girl  friends  so  heartily  that  many  a  ruffle 
and  nosegay  adorning  their  bosom  lost  its 
life. 

When  the  smallpox  broke  out  in  our  city, 
happily  in  a  mild  form,  Schlemihlchen,  of 
course,  was  the  first  to  get  the  disease — and 
it  did  not  contribute  to  her  beauty. 

For  her  mother's  birthday  she  bought  new 
curtains,  out  of  her  own  savings,  for  the 
windows  in  the  "  best  room."  She  herself 
draped  them  in  bold  folds,  and  stepped  back 
with  artistic  self-satisfaction  to  view  them, 
holding  a  light  in  her  hands.  The  fringes 
caught  fire,  the  curtains  and  half  the  "  best 
room  "  were  burned,  and  for  months  after 
her  hands,  with  which  she  had  tried  to  stifle 

51 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  flames,  had  to  be  kept  bouad  up  in  cum- 
bersome wrappings. 

Such  was  Schlemihlchen  when  she  was 
sixteen  years  old. 

A  few  years  later  her  mother  fell  sick.  It 
was  a  painful  internal  trouble,  which  long 
made  her  yearn  for  death  as  a  relief.  Emil- 
chen  nursed  her  with  endless  patience  and 
tenderness.  Though  at  times  she  poured  the 
drugs  over  the  sick  woman's  face  instead  of 
into  her  mouth,  or  burned  her  feet  with  the 
hot-water  bottle  shoved  into  the  bed  with  too 
assiduous  care,  opinion  was  nevertheless 
unanimous,  that  she  was  a  most  affection- 
ate daughter  and  a  most  tireless  nurse. 

The  lovingkindness  of  Emilchen  was  cele- 
brated everywhere  by  Schonchen  the  cook, 
or  rather  Jeanette,  the  name  she  preferred  to 
go  by  ever  since  her  cousin  from  Melsungen 
had  come  to  the  cattle  market  in  the  city, 
and  called  her  Jeanette,  to  show  that  they 
knew  high  German  in  Melsungen,  too.  In 
the  butcher's   shop   as   well   as   at  market 

52 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


Jeanette  declared  that  Emilchen  was  a  ver- 
itable angel,  that  the  dear  Lord  has  regard 
to  the  heart  and  not  to  the  hair-dress,  and 
that  she  had  earned  her  place  in  Gan-Eden, 
if  only  by  her  treatment  of  her  mother. 

After  a  long  period  of  suffering,  the 
mother  died.  It  was  on  the  eve  of  the  Purim 
festival,  when  no  one  had  time  or  inclination 
to  pity  her  and  Emilchen.  The  little  the  two 
women  had  possessed,  had  been  spent  upon 
physicians  and  drugs,  and  Emilchen  would 
have  been  exposed  to  dire  necessity,  had  not 
her  guardian,  old  Uncle  Marcus,  come  to  her 
aid. 

Uncle  Marcus  was  her  great-uncle  as  well 
as  my  own.  He  was  an  eccentric  old  bach- 
elor, almost  seventy  years  of  age.  His  tall, 
lean  figure  was  set  on  stork-like  legs.  A 
narrow  head  topped  a  neck  which  was  very 
long  and  bent  forward  at  a  sharp  angle, 
and  a  colossal  nose  of  the  racial  type  pro- 
truded from  his  yellow,  beardless  face, 
almost  meeting  his  long  pointed  chin  across 
63 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

his  narrow  lips.  His  hair  was  white  and 
thin.  A  long  brown  coat,  many  times 
turned,  had  been  his  trusted  companion  for 
a  generation.  The  batiste  neckerchief,  worn 
in  the  fashion  of  the  time  folded  twice  about 
the  neck,  shone  in  such  warm  tones  even  in 
daylight  that  it  seemed  to  have  been  gilded 
by  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  When  Cum- 
berland conceived  the  character  of  Sheva, 
Uncle  Marcus  must  have  appeared  to  him  in 
a  dream. 

He  had  a  house  at  the  corner  of  the 
"  Graben,"  but  he  occupied  only  one  room, 
at  the  end  of  the  long  corridor.  The  other 
rooms  were  vacant,  if  this  can  be  said  of 
spaces  stuffed  full  with  thousands  of  heter- 
ogeneous articles,  antiques  belonging  to  as 
many  different  branches  of  the  business  of 
his  firm.  For  he  dealt  in  everything.  Piled 
up  here  in  harmonious  disorder  lay  furniture 
and  riding-boots,  pewter  plates,  Brabant 
lace,  silver  ingots,  vitriol,  embroidered  offi- 
cers' uniforms  of  the  previous  century,  coins, 
54 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


jewels,  and  "  all  such  like  things  more,"  to 
use  a  phrase  Uncle  Marcus  stuck  into  every 
sentence  of  his.  Stored  in  his  cellar  were 
various  assortments  of  wine  to  be  sold 
wholesale  and  retail,  and  wood  and  coal,  the 
octroi  on  which  he  farmed  from  the  city. 
In  addition  he  managed  an  office  for  all  the 
German  state  lotteries,  which  earned  for  him 
the  honorary  title  of  Lottery  Assessor. 

No  one  knew  how  rich  he  was.  Some 
thought  him  a  miser,  others  a  spendthrift. 
Both  opinions  were  correct.  So  far  as  his 
own  person  was  concerned,  in  matters  of 
external  show,  he  was  a  niggard.  But  he 
gave  with  a  full  hand  to  needy  relatives  and 
to  the  poor  too  self-respecting  to  beg.  In 
each  case,  however,  he  followed  his  own 
choice  and  inclination.  Before  the  festivals, 
boxes  full  of  bottles  of  wine  travelled 
secretly,  without  the  name  of  the  sender, 
into  the  houses  of  decent  poor  families,  and 
when  the  bottles  were  uncorked,  golden 
ducats  were  often  found  under  the  seals. 
65 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Yet  his  name  was  never  to  be  seen  in  the 
hsts  o£  donors  printed  in  the  weekly  paper, 
with  public  thanks  for  their  magnanimous 
gifts. 

The  business  of  the  Marcus  firm  was  con- 
ducted by  three  men :  the  Assessor  himself, 
who  superintended  its  various  branches  and 
"all  such  like  things  more";  the  clerk 
Barmann,  who  entered  as  a  Meshores,  but 
came  to  be  manager  of  the  lottery  office,  and 
was  given  that  dignified  title  by  the  custom- 
ers of  the  house;  and  the  driver  Mewes, 
doing  double  service  as  teamster  in  hauling 
coal  and  wood,  and  as  coachman  in  driving 
his  master  in  a  little  carriage  on  high  yellow 
wheels,  drawn  by  a  lean  brown  nag.  He 
whizzed  the  vehicle  so  noisily  through  the 
city  that  old  Levy  dubbed  it  the  "  spinning 
wheel " ;  which  name  it  bore  until  the  end 
of  its  days. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Uncle  Marcus  that 
he  chose  Schlemihlchen,  the  motherless  girl 
devoid  of  all  charm,  as  his  ward  and  favor- 
56 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


ite.  Under  the  pretext  of  managing  her 
inheritance,  he  brought  her  the  "  interest  ** 
on  her  money,  making  it  amount  to  as  much 
as  she  required  for  modest  living.  On  Sun- 
days he  took  her  on  drives  in  his  "  spinning 
wheel  "  to  the  Park  and  the  neighboring 
villages,  and  on  the  road,  with  the  smile  of 
a  prestidigitateur,  he  would  draw  wine, 
seltzer  water,  sugar,  goblets,  cakes,  and  fruit 
from  the  pockets  of  the  coach. 

He  presented  Emilchen  with  small  articles 
of  jewelry,  lace,  silk  scarfs,  and  "  all  such 
like  things  more."  When  she  lost  or  broke 
them,  he  would  pretend  not  to  notice  it,  as 
also  when  she  descended  from  the  "  spinning 
wheel "  and  remained  hanging  on  the  step, 
and  then  fell  as  heavily  as  a  sack  of  potatoes 
into  the  arms  of  old  Mewes.  In  the  evening 
he  would  visit  her  and  stay  with  her  for 
hours,  telling  her  of  his  experiences  and 
relating  anecdotes  from  Meidinger's  first 
edition,  and  "all  such  like  things  more." 
She  smiled  at  them  dutifully,  while  embroid- 
67 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ering  a  pair  of  slippers  in  cross-stitch  for 
him. 

Jeanette  had  sworn  never  to  abandon  her 
"  mamsell."  So,  when  she  received  a  pro- 
posal of  marriage  from  the  cattle-dealer,  her 
cousin  from  Melsungen,  a  conflict  of  duties 
arose.  She  finally  decided  to  follow  the 
inclination  of  her  heart  toward  Melsungen, 
and  Uncle  Marcus  eased  the  situation  by  ask- 
ing his  ward  to  keep  house  for  him.  She 
was  given  a  front  room  one  flight  up,  which 
had  been  cleared  and  fitted  up  for  living 
purposes.  And  so  Schlemihlchen  presided 
over  the  Assessor's  house  on  the  "  Graben." 

After  this  happy  turn  in  her  fortune,  the 
name  of  Schlemihlchen  seems  to  have  fallen 
into  oblivion.  Uncle  did  not  call  Emilchen 
by  any  name  at  all ;  the  cook  whom  he  hired 
— previously,  the  Marcus  firm  had  gotten  its 
meals  from  the  eating-house — and  old 
Mewes  called  her  "  Mamsell  " ;  while  Bar- 
mann  never  addressed  her  or  referred  to  her 
otherwise  than  as  Miss  Katz. 
68 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


In  Barmann,  Emilchen  from  the  first 
found  a  quiet  and  passionate  adorer.  Kin- 
ship of  external  appearance  formed  a  bond 
of  mute  sympathy  between  these  two  beings 
forsaken  by  the  graces.  He  was  by  no 
means  handsome,  this  Barmann.  He  was 
small  and  thin,  with  legs  forming  a  Gothic 
arch,  and  clothed  in  a  pair  of  baggy  black 
trousers  shiny  with  age.  Long,  bony  hands 
stuck  from  the  short  sleeves  of  his  office 
coat,  which  were  protected  by  linen  over- 
sleeves. The  shaven  beard  imparted  a  tinge 
of  blue  to  his  pale  face,  and  his  eyes  were 
bordered  with  a  hem  of  purple  like  a  toga 
praetcxta.  Over  the  steel  frames  of  his  eye- 
glasses, these  eyes  looked  up  to  Miss  Katz 
as  to  a  higher  being,  and  shone  with  grati- 
tude when  they  turned  toward  her. 

For  she  mended  his  underwear  as  well  as 
that  of  her  uncle  (putting  great  industry  and 
still  greater  stitches  into  her  work)  ;  she 
darned  his  stockings  like  fish-nets;  and  she 
cut  the  poppy-seed  cake  that  Jeanette  sent 
59 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

her  from  Melsungen  in  two,  and  wrapped  up 
half  for  him  to  take  to  his  mother.  More- 
over, when  his  mother,  hunchbacked  Joche- 
bedchen,  who  peddled  goose  liver  and  crack- 
lings, came  to  the  house  for  the  first  time 
after  Emilchen's  installation,  Miss  Katz 
called  her  "  Madam  Barmann,"  ushered  her 
into  the  room,  and  poured  out  a  glass  of 
French  wine  for  her.  At  this  the  son  could 
restrain  his  emotion  no  longer,  and  his  eyes 
overflowed  like  the  glass  of  wine  proffered 
by  Schlemihlchen. 

Gradually  she  also  came  to  take  a  hand  in 
the  business  of  the  firm.  Fridays,  when 
customers  called  for  their  half-pint  of  Kid- 
dush  wine,  she  meted  it  out  with  just  meas- 
ure, and  not  infrequently  spilled  double  the 
quantity  over  the  funnel  while  trying  to  fill 
the  bottle.  In  purchasing  old  pewter  and 
brass  she  did  not  notice  that  the  same  articles 
were  stolen  from  her  six  times  over,  and  each 
time  sold  back  to  her  again.  But  Uncle 
Marcus  only  smiled  good-naturedly,  for  she 
60- 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


helped  him  faithfully  and  discreetly  in  his 
hidden  benefactions,  and  always  discovered 
new  places  where  good  might  be  done  in 
secret. 

Thus  the  two  odd  characters  lived  to- 
gether in  an  ideal  relationship,  the  old  man 
clinging  to  her  with  ever  increasing  affection. 
The  whole  community  felt  assured  either 
that  Emilchen  would  be  her  rich  uncle's  sole 
heir,  or  else  receive  a  magnificent  dowry 
from  him.  Though  old  Levy  declared  that 
no  one  would  be  likely  to  buy  the  "  cat " 
(Katz)  in  the  bag,  the  Shadchonim  came  to 
Uncle  Marcus  more  and  more  frequently, 
to  make  confidential  inquiries  as  to  Miss 
Katz  and  her  dowry. 

The  old  uncle  met  these  gentlemen  with 
great  reserve.  As  far  as  he  knew,  he  said, 
his  ward  had  inherited  but  a  small  fortune 
from  her  mother,  or  perhaps  none  at  all.  He 
himself  had  a  nephew,  who,  it  was  true,  had 
been  in  America  for  many  years,  and  from 
whom  he  had  heard  nothing  for  a  long  time. 
«1 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Still  he  was  his  nearest  relative,  and  he  had 
bounden  duties  toward  him,  and  "  all  such 
like  things  more."  He  would  give  his  ward 
a  fine  outfit  of  linen,  silverware,  furniture, 
and  "  all  such  like  things  more,"  but  as  to 
anything  else,  he  would  reserve  his  decision 
until  he  found  out  who  the  man  was  who 
asked  for  her  hand.  He  had  no  use  at  all 
for  anyone  who  wanted  her  only  for  her 
dowry.  She  had  a  modest  disposition,  a 
good  heart,  and  "  all  such  like  things  more." 
Thereupon  the  Shadchonim  asked : 
"  How  is  business  ?  "  "  Is  the  wheat  crop 
in  Westphalia  good  ?  "  "  Who  won  the 
great  prize  in  the  last  Frankf orter  ?  "  and 
"  all  such  like  things  more."  As  to  Emil- 
chen,  they  inquired  no  further.  Barmann, 
who  saw  the  familiar  Shadchonim  depart 
with  long  faces,  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief, 
and  wiped  his  nose  blissfully  on  his  writing 
cuffs. 

But  before  the  first  year  of  the  new  era 
in  the  house  at  the  "  Graben  "  had  elapsed, 
62 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


an  event  occurred  which  stirred  not  only 
Uncle  Marcus's  household,  but  also  the 
entire  community.  The  Frankfort  lottery 
had  been  drawn,  and  vague  rumors  were 
afloat  of  big  prizes  having  fallen  to  the 
firm  of  Marcus.  It  was  in  the  days  before 
the  telegraph,  but  a  special  courier  of  the 
Frankfort  lottery  bureau  had  arrived,  a 
young  official,  for  whom  the  Assessor  called 
at  the  post-house  in  the  Konigsplatz  in  his 
**  spinning  wheel." 

This  messenger  of  good  fortune,  though 
burdened  with  the  very  prosaic  name  of 
Ochs,  was  of  good  family.  His  ancestral 
house  in  the  Frankfort  Judengasse  probably 
bore  the  sign  of  an  ox,  from  which  the  in- 
mates had  derived  their  name.  He  was  well 
educated,  and  could  discuss  not  only  the 
Frankfort  lottery,  but  also  Goethe,  Bettina, 
and  Ariadne  of  Naxos.  He  consistently 
dropped  the  "  n  "  at  the  end  of  the  verb,  in 
accordance  with  local  custom. 

The  Assessor  urged  him  to  take  some 

63 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

lunch.  Emilchen  did  the  honors  with 
smoked  goose-breast  and  pickled  cucumbers, 
and  Mr.  Ochs  spoke  of  Goethe  and  Bettina. 
After  the  meal  the  young  man,  whose  red- 
dish side-whiskers  were  picturesquely  set  off 
by  his  blue  cravat,  made  a  most  polite  bow 
to  Miss  Katz,  and  accompanied  the  host  to 
the  room  at  the  end  of  the  corridor  in  order 
to  compare  the  lists  of  lottery  tickets  with 
him.  Most  of  the  tickets  had  come  out 
blank,  a  few  with  small  winnings,  two  with 
a  prize  of  a  thousand  dollars,  and  No.  2077, 
printed  large  in  the  list,  with  thirty  thousand 
gulden. 

On  hearing  this  number  read  Uncle  Mar- 
cus bent  his  neck  and  nose  still  lower  over 
the  list,  then  put  his  index  finger  to  his  fore- 
head. 

"  Permit  me  a  moment,  Mr.  Ochs,"  he 
said,  as  he  rose,  and  he  took  from  his 
desk  an  old  leather  note-book  inscribed  with 
all  sorts  of  notes  in  Hebrew  characters. 
"  Right !  "  he  cried,  and  a  joyous  smile  wid- 
64 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


ened  the  corners  of  his  thin  mouth.     "  It's 
No.  2077!  " 

Mr.  Ochs  looked  at  him j inquiringly. 

"  May  I  ask  you,  Mr.  Assessor,  whether 
there  are  any  peculiar  circumstances  con- 
nected with  this  number  which  makes  the 
situation  doubtful?  " 

Uncle  Marcus  looked  the  interrogator  up 
and  down  with  his  little  eyes,  as  if  to  take 
the  intellectual  and  spiritual  measure  of 
this  young  man,  whose  fine,  sedate  bearing 
quickly  won  for  him  the  favor  the  old  man 
was  at  any  rate  disposed  to  give  a  member 
of  the  Ochs  family,  which  was  well  known 
to  him.  While  another  smile  cut  still  deeper 
furrows  in  the  wrinkles  about  his  mouth,  he 
said: 

"  I  have  no  doubt  at  all  on  the  subject, 
my  dear  Mr.  Ochs,  I  know  for  a  certainty 
that  I  gave  No.  2077  as  a  gift  to  my  ward 
Miss  Katz,  the  girl  you  met  a  little  while 
ago  at  lunch." 

The  eyes  of  Mr.  Ochs  opened  wide — so 
65 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

wide  that  the  thirty  thousand  gulden  and 
everything  else  found  their  way  to  the  very 
bottom  of  his  heajrt,  from  which  the  image 
of  Emilchen  suddenly  emerged  as  if  painted 
upon  a  background  of  gold.  He  rose  and 
seized  the  old  man's  hand  with  an  air  of  un- 
feigned joy. 

"  I  am  perfectly  delighted,"  he  cried, 
"  that  the  money  remains  in  your  family, 
Mr.  Assessor.  My  people  have  always 
spoken  of  your  family  with  such  esteem.  In 
point  of  fact,  I  confess  it  was  only  to  become 
personally  acquainted  with  you  that  I  got 
the  bureau  to  send  me  here,  for,  as  you 
know,  '  theory  is  gray,  but  the  golden  tree 
of  life  is  green.'  " 

Mr.  Marcus  drew  a  wry  face.  He  referred 
the  "  gray  "  to  himself,  and  the  "  green  " 
and  "  gold  "  to  his  ward.  Mr.  Ochs  noticed 
the  look,  and  blushed  in  some  embarrass- 
ment. Then  he  put  his  white  hand  on  his 
blue  cravat  in  the  region  of  his  heart,  and 
said: 

66 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


"  I  must  confess  to  you,  Mr.  Assessor, 
your  ward  made  a  deep  impression  upon  me 
at  the  very  first  meeting.  AU  they  told  me 
at  home  about  her  excellent  character  has 
been  fully  confirmed,  and  I  feel  myself 
drawn  to  her  like  the  fisher  in  Goethe." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ochs,"  Uncle  Marcus  re- 
turned, blowing  his  long  nose  with  a  red 
handkerchief,  "  I  don't  know  that  Fisher. 
The  only  Fisher  I  know  is  David  Fisher, 
who  has  a  lottery  office  in  Fahr  Street  in 
Frankfort.  But  as  to  what  concerns  my 
ward,  I  will  say  this,  '  handsome  is  as  hand- 
some does.*  The  girl  has  more  common 
sense  than  she  is  credited  with.  She's 
modest,  has  a  good  heart,  and  all  such  like 
things  more.  What  she  has  besides,  you 
yourself  know,  and  that  won't  be  all,  either. 
As  to  yourself,  I  don't  ask  you  what  you 
have,  because  I  know  you  to  be  a  young  man 
of  solid  character  and  good  family.  So  I 
hope  the  matter  can  be  arranged.  But  do 
me  this  one  favor — don't  speak  about  the 

67 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

lottery  ticket  and  the  prize.  I  want  to  keep 
it  as  a  surprise  at  the  end.  Will  you  do  us 
the  honor  to  have  dinner  with  us  to-mor- 
row?" 

The  next  day  the  cook  took  a  turkey  to 
the  slaughterer,  and  ordered  a  macaroon 
pyramid  from  Melli  the  confectioner,  be- 
cause Mr.  Ochs  was  invited.  Result:  one 
topic  of  conversation  in  the  entire  commun- 
ity.   "  The  Shiddech  is  true !  " 

"  Whoever  takes  her  must  be  an  ox,"  said 
old  Levy.  "  At  any  rate,  they  won't  live  like 
cat  and  dog." 

While  drawing  the  gobbler,  the  cook 
dropped  a  few  unmistakable  hints  to  Emil- 
chen.  Emilchen  tapped  the  cook's  shoulder 
with  her  broad  hand. 

"Silly!  "she  said. 

Nevertheless  she  turned  scarlet,  and  went 
upstairs  to  dress  herself,  for  her  uncle  had 
told  her  with  a  significant  smile: 

"  Put  your  Shabbes  dress  on." 

She  stood  before  the  mirror  smoothing 
68 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


out  her  rebellious  hair  with  quince  bandoline, 
and  fastening  a  red  ribbon  and  a  yellow  rose 
in  it.  She  pulled  her  dress  to  rights,  and 
regarded  herself  as  if  lost  in  a  dream.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  saw  light-red  whiskers 
and  a  dark-blue  cravat  in  the  mirror,  and 
she  shook  her  head  as  if  to  say : 

"But  is  it  possible?" 

Suddenly,  however,  her  thoughts  recurred 
to  her  uncle,  who  had  grown  so  accustomed 
to  her,  and  who  would  now  have  to  get  his 
meals  again  with  Barmann  from  the  eating- 
house.  And  she  broke  into  convulsive  sobs. 
Hot  tears  coursed  down  her  cheeks,  concern- 
ing which  we  are  unable  to  say  whether  they 
were  meant  for  her  uncle  or  for  Barmann. 

"  It's  all  the  same  to  me !  "  she  said,  pull- 
ing herself  together  and  wiping  off  her  tears 
with  her  tulle  cuff.  "  What  Uncle  Marcus 
decides  for  me,  is  certainly  for  my  good. 
And,  besides,  it's  all  a  lot  of  silly  gossip,  and 
Mr.  Ochs  isn't  even  thinking  of  me,  I  sup- 
pose." 

69 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

After  all  he  must  have  thought  of  her,  for 
he  appeared  in  a  black  frock-coat  and  a  spot- 
lessly white  vest,  and  he  brought  a  bouquet 
of  lilacs,  which  he  offered  her  most  politely. 
Not  to  offend  the  young  man,  she  pinned  it 
to  her  breast,  large  as  it  was. 

The  table  was  spread  with  the  pyramid 
in  the  centre,  but  Uncle  Marcus  had  not  yet 
come,  because  he  wanted  to  give  the  young 
couple  an  opportunity  to  pour  out  their 
hearts  to  each  other.  Which  they  proceeded 
to  do,  Mr.  Ochs  declaiming  the  Zauherlehr- 
ling.  When  the  brooms  got  beyond  control, 
he  bawled  so  mightily  that  the  cook  in  the 
kitchen  cried  out  in  fright: 

"  Great  Heavens !  The  Chosen  is  killing 
theKalle!" 

Uncle  Marcus  appeared  in  the  nick  of 
time,  accompanied  by  Barmann,  who  had  put 
on  the  coat  he  wore  at  his  Bar-Mitzvah. 

"  Well,  children,  have  you  had  your 
talk  ?  "  the  uncle  asked  with  a  smile. 

"  We  understand  each  other/'  answered 
70 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


Mr.  Ochs,  seizing  Emilchen's  hand,  which 
shook  as  in  a  spasm. 

They  sat  down  to  table.  Emilchen  ate 
h'ttle,  Barmann  still  less,  though  she  pressed 
him  most  urgently  to  take  more.  With  so 
much  the  greater  boldness  did  Mr.  Ochs  fall 
to,  in  order  to  get  to  the  dessert  and  the 
promised  surprise  as  quickly  as  possible. 
They  safely  reached  the  pyramid,  which 
crackled  into  ruins  under  the  hand  of  the 
master  of  the  house.  Old  Mewes,  wearing 
large  white  cotton  gloves,  brought  in  and 
uncorked  a  bottle  of  Liebfrauenmilch.  Mr. 
Ochs  raised  his  glass,  paused  for  a  moment 
until  Mewes  left  the  room,  hemmed  and 
hawed,  and  spoke: 

"  Goethe  says :  '  O,  happy  the  home 
where  this  is  accounted  but  a  small  gift!' 
This  wine  is  baptized  after  Liebe  Frauen 
('  dear  women  *).  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Assess- 
or, I  don't  mean  to  say  anything  has  been 
baptized  in  your  house.  God  forbid.  I  only 
want  to  say  that  I  propose  this  toast  to  the 
71 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

health  of  all  dear  women,  and  very,  very  par- 
ticularly to  the  health  of  your  dear  niece, 
Miss  Emilie !  "  He  waved  the  glass  toward 
Emilchen,  who  trembled  violently,  and  he 
continued  with  growing  pathos :  "  Yes,  Miss 
Emilie,  from  the  very  first  moment  I  cast 
my  eyes  upon  you,  everything  about  you 
made  a  profound  impression  upon  me. 
Goethe,  no,  Schiller  says,  *  The  inclination 
of  the  heart  is  the  voice  of  destiny.'  And 
so,  Miss  Emilie,  I  appeal  to  your  heart,  and 
ask  whether  you  would  say  the  word  *  yes,* 
whether  you  would  unite  your  destiny  with 
mine  ?  " 

He  wiped  his  forehead  with  an  immacu- 
late batiste  handkerchief,  and  looked  expect- 
antly at  Emilchen,  the  inclination  of  whose 
heart  betrayed  itself  by  the  visible  shaking 
of  the  upper  part  of  her  body. 

"  Speak,  my  child,"  said  Uncle  Marcus, 
tenderly. 

Emilchen,  who  dared  not  look  either  to  the 
right,  at  Mr.  Ochs,  or  to  the  left,  at  Bar- 

72 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


mann,  raised  her  eyes  to  the  old  man*s  kindly- 
face,  and  said  in  a  moved  voice : 

"  You  are  my  guardian  and  my  bene- 
factor, and  what  you  decide  for  me,  must  be 
for  my  good." 

"  I  have  nothing  against  it,"  said  Uncle 
Marcus.  "  Mr.  Ochs  is  a  fine  man,  and 
wants  to  make  you  his  wife,  though  he 
knows  you  have  no  money — a  thing  not  one 
in  ten  would  do  nowadays !  "  He  winked  his 
eye  at  the  bridegroom,  who  understood  him, 
and  broke  in  with 

"  No  filthy  lucre,  it's  your  heart.  Miss 
Emilchen !  " 

Emilchen's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  She  ex- 
tended her  hand  across  the  table  to  the  hand- 
some, unworldly  young  wooer,  overturning 
a  wine  glass  as  she  did  it,  and  sending  it 
rolling  to  the  floor,  where  it  broke  into  bits. 

"  There  you  have  it !  "  cried  Uncle  Mar- 
cus, laughing  aloud.  "  The  glass  broke  itself 
as  a  sign  of  your  betrothal!  Maze!  and 
Broche!" 

78 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Barmann  wanted  to  rise,  but  his  Gothic 
legs  refused  to  serve  him,  and  he  remained 
rooted  to  his  seat.  Mr.  Ochs,  however,  put 
his  arms  about  the  girl,  and  kissed  her  on 
the  forehead,  whereat  one  red  whisker  stuck 
to  the  quince  bandoline  on  her  black  coiffure, 
an  omen  that  augured  well  for  the  attach- 
ment of  their  souls. 

A  storm  is  usually  followed  by  calm.  The 
passionate  declaration  was  succeeded  by  a 
pause,  during  which  Mr.  Ochs  crunched  the 
ruins  of  the  pyramid,  while  Uncle  Marcus 
began  with  apparent  indifference : 

"  Tell  me,  Emilchen,  didn't  I  once  give 
you  a  Frankfort  lottery  ticket?  " 

"  You've  given  me  so  many  things,  Uncle, 
that  I  really  can't  recall  at  this  moment." 

"  Think,  child,  a  Frankfort  lottery  ticket, 
No.  2077." 

"  You  gave  me  two  tickets.  Uncle  Marcus, 
one,  if  I  remember  rightly,  at  my  birthday, 
and  one  at  Pesach.  You  wished  I  might 
draw  a  great  prize  with  them." 

74 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


"  Quite  right,'*  observed  the  old  man, 
smiling.  "  One  was  a  Brunswicker,  the 
other  a  Frankforter,  No.  2077." 

"  You're  probably  right,  Uncle.'* 

"  Go,  child,  please,  and  fetch  both  of 
them." 

Emilchen  became  embarrassed. 

"  Both  ?  "  she  stammered. 

Mr.  Ochs  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"  Why  not?  "  asked  Uncle  Marcus. 

"  Because — because  I  have  only  one  of 
them.  I  gave  Jeanette  the  other,  when  she 
was  married." 

Mr.  Ochs  turned  pale. 

"  Go  and  see,"  cried  the  uncle  with  more 
temper  than  Emilchen  had  ever  seen  him 
display. 

Barmann  had  found  his  legs  again.  He 
rose,  and  with  outstretched  neck  he  fol- 
lowed Emilchen  with  his  eyes,  as  she  hur- 
ried, trembling,  to  the  bureau  and  fumbled 
at  the  keyhole.  After  great  difficulty  she 
finally  opened  the  drawer,  took  out  a  small 
7S 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

leather  pocket-book,  and  opened  it,  her  hands 
all  a-tremble;  for  she  was  greatly  discon- 
certed by  the  strangely  expectant  eyes  turned 
upon  her. 

When  lots  are  to  decide  on  life  and  death 
in  a  so-called  "  American  duel,"  the  tension 
of  the  participants  can  be  no  greater  than 
Mr.  Ochs's,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes,  fairly  start- 
ing from  their  sockets,  upon  the  ticket  Emil- 
,<;\3n  was  now  unfolding.  The  girl  little 
suspected  her  destiny  depended  upon  it. 
With  the  keen  gaze  of  an  eagle  Mr.  Ochs 
deciphered  it  before  it  was  quite  opened. 
Like  the  "  mene,  mene,  tekel,  upharsin,"  the 
words  stared  at  him  in  flaming  letters  : 

"  Hersogl.  Braunschweigische  Staatslot- 
terie! " 

The  other  ticket,  the  big  one,  the  thirty 
thousand  gulden  ticket,  had  fled  to  Mel- 
sungen.  Emilchen  had  given  it  away  to  the 
cook!  Exactly!  Schlemihlchen  had  re- 
mained true  to  herself. 

Mr.  Ochs  paled  to  the  tips  of  his  ears,  and 
76 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


actually  shrank  in  size.  Barmann,  on  the 
other  hand, — a  man  grows  with  his  aims — 
Barmann  suddenly  stretched  himself  in  spite 
of  the  frock-coat  he  had  outgrown,  and 
threw  a  triumphant  look  over  his  glasses  at 
the  crushed  wooer.  Emilchen  handed  her 
uncle  the  ill-fated  Brunswicker,  and  looked 
at  him  questioningly. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  answered  her  look 
calmly,  "  I  only  wanted  to  know.  Lucky 
Jeanette,"  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Mr.  Ochs, 
"  lucky  Jeanette,  if  filthy  lucre  makes  one 
happy.    What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Ochs?  " 

Mr.  Ochs  coughed,  as  if  a  piece  of  the 
pyramid  had  stuck  in  his  throat,  held  the 
batiste  handkerchief  to  his  mouth,  and 
looked  over  it  at  Emilchen,  now  suddenly 
transformed  from  a  picture  upon  a  golden 
background  into  a  dull  black  silhouette. 
Emilchen,  however,  who  like  the  pious  Fri- 
dolin  was  innocent  of  everything,  hastened 
to  the  table,  poured  out  a  glass  of  wine,  and 
regarding  him  compassionately  said : 
77 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Won't  you  take  a  drink  ?  There's  some- 
thing in  your  throat." 

"  Thank  you,"  Mr.  Ochs  stammered,  "  the 
wine  sent  the  blood  to  my  head.  I'm  not 
used  to  strong  drinks,  and  I  must  confess, 
when  I've  had  wine  I  say  all  sorts  of  things 
that— I— that— " 

"  That  you  regret  when  sober,"  Uncle 
Marcus  concluded.  "  An  old  story !  When 
the  blood  mounts  to  the  head,  one  speaks 
all  such  like  things  more,  and  God  forbid  I 
should  take  anyone  at  his  word  in  such 
circumstances ! " 

Mr.  Ochs  drew  a  breath  of  relief. 

"  Mr.  Assessor,"  he  said,  "  I  know  a  man 
of  your  character  and  your  position  will  not 
let  his  plans  and  purposes  depend  upon  a 
single  lottery  ticket — " 

Uncle  Marcus  interrupted  him. 

"  You're  talking  about  business  ?  Very 
well.  We  still  have  the  accounts  to  settle 
before  you  go.  Will  you  please  step  into  the 
office  with  me  ?  " 

78 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


He  arose.  Mr.  Ochs  followed  suit.  He 
seized  his  hat,  and  bowed  politely  to  Emil- 
chen,  who  stood  at  the  table  motionless,  and 
looked  at  the  departing  guest  as  if  waking 
from  a  dream. 

When  the  two  men  had  left  the  room, 
Barmann  came  up  to  her,  and  grasped  her 
hand. 

"  You  must  thank  God,  Miss  Katz !  "  he 
cried  in  a  voice  quivering  with  emotion. 

"  I  don't  understand,"  Emilchen  faltered. 

"  You  don't  understand?  Well,  then,  I'll 
tell  you.  That  man  proposed  to  you  because 
he  thought  you  had  won  thirty  thousand 
gulden  on  the  Frankfort  ticket." 

Emilchen's  eyes  lighted  up  with  joy. 

"  Thirty  thousand  gulden !  "  she  cried, 
"  What  luck  for  my  poor  Jeanette !  " 

Barmann  looked  at  her,  and  wiped  his 
eyes  with  the  sleeve  of  his  frock-coat. 

"Miss  Katz,  you're  a  jewel!  God  has 
placed  the  great  prize  in  your  heart.  Don't 
think  any  more  of  that  man  Ochs,  and  don't 
79 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

feel  hurt.  I  don't  know  what  Goethe  says, 
but  I  know  the  Sechus  of  your  sainted 
mother  stood  by  you  to-day ! " 

Again  passing  his  coat  sleeve  over  his 
eyes,  Barmann  walked  from  the  room  with- 
out looking  around. 

Emilchen  stood  there  illuminated,  not 
struck,  by  a  flash  of  lightning. 

"  I  might  have  thought  of  that  myself !  '* 
she  said  softly,  regarding  her  face  in  the 
mirror  opposite. 

She  picked  up  the  broken  bits  of  glass 
from  the  floor,  and  opened  the  bureau 
drawer,  but  before  locking  the  pocket-book 
away,  she  laid  a  twig  from  the  bouquet  of 
lilacs  into  it  as  a  reminder  and  as  a  warning. 
Then  she  wrote  a  hearty  note  of  congratu- 
lation to  Jeanette  upon  having  drawn  the 
great  prize. 

The  next  day  when  the  community  learned 
that  Mr.  Ochs  had  departed,  and  the  Shid- 
dech  had  come  to  nothing,  old  Levy  said : 

"  My  God,  what  luck  that  man  Ochs 
80 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


must  have!     Once  a  Schlemihl,  always  a 
Schlemihl,  but  an  Ochs  is  not  always  an  ox.'* 

A  few  days  later  Uncle  Marcus  called 
Emilchen  into  his  room,  awd  read  her  a 
paper,  which  he  then  sealed  in  her  presence. 
On  the  back  he  wrote  a  word  she  did  not 
understand.  But  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
she  carried  the  paper  into  her  room.  On 
opening  the  drawer  her  eyes  fell  on  the  dried- 
up  lilac  blossoms.  She  placed  the  paper  by 
their  side,  and  as  if  seized  with  a  resolve,  or 
actuated  by  a  vow,  she  buried  the  pocket- 
book  out  of  sight  under  her  clothes  and  rib- 
bons. On  the  back  of  the  paper  was  written 
in  large  sprawling  letters  the  word  "  Codi- 
cil." 

Autumn  passed  uneventfully.  Jeanette 
came  to  the  cattle  market,  and  brought  her 
child  along  to  show  it  to  her  benefactress 
and  ask  her  blessing  upon  it.  She  had 
named  it  Emilchen.  The  girl  pressed  her 
little  namesake  tenderly  to  her  bosom,  almost 
choking  it. 

81 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Winter  came,  and  with  it  Purim.  Emil- 
chen  would  have  preferred  to  pass  the  anni- 
versary of  her  mother's  death  alone,  but 
Uncle  Marcus  had  invited  their  relatives 
to  partake  of  some  punch,  for  which  he 
possessed  a  specially  fine  recipe,  and  she 
could  not  think  of  interfering  with  his 
pleasure.  As  he  ladled  out  the  first  glass 
from  the  bowl  with  the  pride  of  an  artist 
in  his  work,  the  spoon  suddenly  fell  from  his 
hand,  and  he  sank  unconscious  to  the  floor. 
The  old  man  of  seventy  was  struck  by  a 
fit  of  apoplexy.  An  hour  later  the  heart  that 
had  silently  cherished  so  many  noble  feelings 
ceased  to  beat.  For  the  second  time  the 
festival  was  turned  into  a  day  of  mourning 
for  Emilchen. 

In  the  general  confusion  that  ensued,  she 
was  the  first  to  regain  her  self-possession. 
After  every  restorative  had  been  tried,  and 
the  physicians  declared  an  attempt  to  bring 
back  life  futile,  she  made  all  the  necessary 
arrangements  in  the  disturbed  household. 
82 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


She  sent  the  abundant  remnants  of  the  feast 
to  the  almshouse,  and  cleared  the  room  for 
the  body  and  the  watchers,  who  had  to 
"  learn  "  day  and  night  at  its  side. 

The  decisive  moment  seemed  to  have 
given  calm  and  poise  to  her  timid,  spasmodic 
nature.  She  followed  the  body  on  foot  up 
to  the  gate  of  the  "  good  place,"  which 
it  is  not  customary  for  women  to  enter 
with  a  funeral  cortege,  and  gave  her  own 
savings  to  the  clamoring  beggars.  On  her 
return  she  stopped  for  a  moment  before  the 
door  of  the  house  now  without  its  master, 
as  if  she  wanted  to  ask : 

"  May  I  still  consider  myself  at  home 
here?" 

Barmann  came  up  to  her  with  tearful 
eyes,  and  led  her  silently  to  the  door  of  her 
room.  "  Miss  Katz,"  he  said  in  a  choking 
voice,  "  don't  wear  yourself  out  too  much. 
You  have  the  consciousness  of  having  cared 
for  Mr.  Marcus — peace  be  with  him! — like 
his  own  child,  and  he  will  remember  you  in 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  world  to  come  as  he  probably  did  on 
earth.  The  authorities  have  put  Mr.  Mar- 
cus's room  and  office  under  seal,  but  I  know 
he  left  a  will.  I  know  where  it  is,  and  it 
will  be  opened  this  afternoon.  Why  do  you 
hesitate  to  enter  the  house.  Miss  Katz?  Am 
I  not  here  still,  also?  Who  knows  which 
one  of  us  will  have  the  right  to  invite  the 
other  to  remain  ?  " 

Emilchen  pressed  his  hand,  and  locked 
herself  into  her  room,  refusing  to  see  the 
numerous  callers  who  came  to  offer  condo- 
lences. Tearless  and  silent  she  sat  there  a 
long  time,  resting  her  face  upon  her  hands 
and  recalling  the  image  of  her  benefactor 
with  all  his  singular  traits  and  characteris- 
tics. She  nodded  her  head  with  a  friendly 
smile,  as  if  listening  again  to  his  anecdotes, 
to  the  stories  of  his  experiences,  and  "all 
such  like  things  more." 

In  the  afternoon  the  city  counsellor  ar- 
rived, and  with  him  Alsberg,  the  attorney  of 
the  Jewish  community.  They  broke  the 
84 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


seal  on  the  room  of  the  deceased,  and  Bar- 
mann  handed  over  the  keys  of  the  desk, 
which  he  had  found  in  Uncle  Marcus's 
clothes.  The  testament  lay  on  top  in  the 
first  drawer.    On  the  envelope  was  wTitten : 

"  To  be  opened  in  the  presence  of  my  ward 
Emilie  Katz." 

Emilchen  was  summoned.  On  entering* 
the  empty  chamber,  where  the  familiar  face 
of  her  uncle  had  always  greeted  her,  a  shud- 
der passed  through  her  whole  body,  and  she 
seemed  to  be  threatened  with  one  of  her 
convulsive  attacks.  Barmann  caught  both 
her  hands,  and  held  her  until  she  regained 
composure.  While  the  city  counsellor 
opened  the  will  and  read  it,  her  gaze  wan- 
dered over  all  the  familiar  objects,  as  if  in 
search  of  the  old  face,  grotesque,  yet  so  dear 
to  her. 

The  will  provided  that  Barmann  should 

continue  to  conduct  the  business,  drawing 

the  same  salarj^  as  before;  that  in  addition 

he  was  to  receive  a  legacy  of  ten  thousand 

86 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

thalers;  that  he  should  make  an  inventory, 
in  order  to  determine  the  value  of  the 
deceased's  property,  since  it  was  impossible 
for  the  testator  to  do  this,  on  account  of  the 
many  outstanding  monies  owing  to  him, 
and  the  piled-up  stock,  which  it  was  difficult 
to  estimate;  that  he  should  take  up  his  resi- 
dence in  the  house,  and  manage  everything 
with  his  usual  fidelity  for  the  legal  heir.  As 
such  he  designated,  for  the  present,  his 
nephew  Jacob  Marcus — place  of  residence 
unknown,  probably  in  America — if  still  liv- 
ing and  a  decent  man.  Notice  should  be 
given  him  through  German  and  American 
newspapers.  If  within  three  years  the  heir 
did  not  appear,  either  in  person  or  by  proxy, 
Barmann  was  to  enter  into  all  his  rights. 
In  the  meantime  he  should  have  full  control 
of  the  business,  as  well  as  of  the  house,  and 
act  in  all  things  as  he  thought  "  accorded 
with  the  spirit  of  the  testator.'*  Uncle  Mar- 
cus made  no  definite  bequests  to  the  Jewish 
and  Christian  charitable  institutions,  leaving 
86 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


this  matter  also  for  Barmann  to  decide,  "  in 
the  spirit  of  the  testator." 

Not  a  word  was  said  about  Emilie  Katz. 
The  will,  in  fact,  antedated  the  time  when 
her  uncle  had  made  himself  her  guardian. 
So  much  the  more  inexplicable  was  the 
superscription : 

"To  be  opened  in  the  presence  of  my 
ward." 

Barmann  listened  to  the  reading  of  the 
will  with  feverish  suspense.  He  seemed 
almost  not  to  have  heard  the  provisions 
made  for  himself,  nor  paid  attention  to  the 
brilliant  prospects  opened  up  to  him.  He 
waited  impatiently  for  what  was  coming, 
and  when  no  more  came,  and  the  city  coun- 
sellor folded  up  the  will,  his  legs  trembled 
violently,  and  he  had  to  sit  down.  He 
stared  from  over  his  glasses  at  Emilchen, 
who  sat  there  dazed.  A  long,  painful  pause 
followed  the  reading  of  the  will. 

"  Am  I  wanted  here  still  ?  "     Emilchen 
asked  in  a  moved  voice. 
87 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

The  city  counsellor  shook  his  head. 

Barmann  was  too  dumbfounded  to  ask  her 
to  stay  when  she  walked  out,  casting  a  mel- 
ancholy glance  about  the  desolate  room. 
Suddenly  he  jumped  up. 

"  It's  impossible !  "  he  cried.  "  There 
must  be  another  paper.  This  will  is  of  an 
early  date." 

He  opened  the  desk,  pulled  out  all  the 
papers,  and  drew  every  drawer  open  ten 
times  over. 

"  Impossible !  "  he  repeated  again  and 
again.  "  No  legacy  for  his  ward,  not  a  word 
about  Miss  Katz!  And  she  herself  says 
nothing  and  knows  nothing.  Inconceiva- 
ble !  What  is  your  opinion,  gentlemen,  is  it 
possible  ?  " 

"  That's  not  for  the  city  official  to  decide," 
answered  the  counsellor,  rising  and  button- 
ing his  coat. 

"Well,  well,"  interjected  attorney  Als- 
berg,  a  handsome  man  with  kind  dark  eyes, 
"  I  understand  your  utter  amazement,  Mr. 
88 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


Barmann,  for  I  knew  the  excellent  man  per- 
sonally. But  I  want  to  call  your  attention 
to  a  passage  in  the  will  upon  which  you 
seem  not  to  lay  sufficient  stress.  The  testa- 
tor has  given  you  full  and  immediate  con- 
trol over  both  the  house  and  the  business, 
and  desires  you  to  act  in  what  you  regard 
to  be  his  spirit.  He  took  the  future  of  his 
ward  out  of  his  own  hands,  and  laid  it  in 
yours.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  one  of  the  old 
gentleman's  eccentricities.  I  don't  want  to 
be  so  indiscreet,"  he  added  smiling,  "  as  to 
express  myself  more  distinctly,  but  you  un- 
derstand me,  Mr.  Barmann." 

"  Not  quite,"  stammered  Barmann,  the 
blood  suddenly  mounting  to  his  pale  face. 
"  But  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times, 
Mr.  Alsberg,  for  your  comforting  sugges- 
tion." 

He  squeezed  Mr.  Alsberg's  fleshy  hand 
heartily,  and  the  two  men  parted. 

An  hour  later  the  news  of  the  strange  will 
was  bruited  about  in  the  city. 
89 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Schlemihlchen  remains  a  Schlemihl- 
chen,"  was  the  general  comment. 

"  Why?  "  said  old  Levy.  "  Barmann  will 
marry  her.  In  any  event,  he  won^t  run 
straight  into  his  misfortune  " — ^with  refer- 
ence to  his  arched  legs. 

A  few  days  afterward  Barmann  wanted 
to  ask  Emilchen  if  she  did  not  know  of  any 
subsequent  provisions  by  her  uncle,  and  he 
began  to  speak  about  the  will,  but  she  reso- 
lutely turned  the  conversation  aside. 

"  It  is  painful  to  me,"  she  said,  "  to  speak 
about  such  things  during  the  Shive,  which  is 
appointed  as  a  time  to  be  devoted  to  the 
memory  of  the  dead.  From  what  I  have 
gathered — for  God  knows  my  thoughts  were 
elsewhere — I  should  say  it  is  your  duty  to 
find  the  legal  heir,  and  in  the  meantime  see 
to  it  that  his  inheritance  is  conscientiously 
administered.  I  am  sure  you  will  carry  out 
my  uncle's  will  faithfully,  Mr.  Barmann, 
and  Fm  sure  " — she  seized  his  hand — "  I'm 
sure  also  you  won't  abandon  a  poor  girl." 
90 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


Barmann*s  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  You're  mistaken,  Miss  Katz.  It  is  my 
duty  for  the  present  to  manage  the  estate  of 
Mr.  Marcus,  peace  be  with  him,  in  accord- 
ance with  his  spirit.  In  which  case  you  are 
the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  must  remain 
so  until  further  developments." 

He  bowed  and  walked  away. 

Emilchen  followed  him  with  her  eyes  for 
a  while,  then  ran  to  her  bureau,  where  she 
remained  standing. 

"  It  is  better  so,**  she  said,  casting  a  moist 
glance  in  the  mirror. 

Barmann  went  to  work  with  redoubled 
zeal,  inspired  by  his  esteem  for  the  living  and 
the  dead.  The  inventory  was  drawn  up  with 
the  help  of  a  temporary  bookkeeper,  the 
chaotic  pile  of  goods  was  assorted  and  sold 
at  public  auction,  fresh  life  rejuvenated  the 
old  business.  Barmann  seemed  to  have  ac- 
quired ten  hands  and  ten  feet,  his  former 
hesitancy  made  way  to  feverish  activity  and 
determination.  The  result  of  his  efforts 
91 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

exceeded  his  own  expectations.  It  appeared 
that  Mr.  Marcus  had  left  a  considerable 
fortune. 

Barmann  did  not  think  of  withdrawing  his 
legacy  from  the  business.  He  regarded  him- 
self as  a  silent  partner  of  the  future  heir, 
who  still  remained  enveloped  in  mysterious 
darkness.  The  notices  had  been  appearing 
in  the  papers  for  a  long  time,  but  so  far  had 
produced  no  clue  to  the  lost  man. 

At  the  urgent  request  of  Emilchen,  hunch- 
backed Jochebedchen,  Barmann's  mother, 
was  installed  in  one  of  the  rooms  now  made 
vacant.  Emilchen  had  made  this  the  con- 
dition of  her  remaining  in  the  house.  The 
old  woman  accepted  the  invitation  with  the 
proviso  that  the  cook  should  be  dismissed, 
and  she  be  allowed  henceforth  to  hold  sway 
in  the  kitchen.  From  now  on  her  goose 
livers  and  cracklings  were  produced  for 
home  consumption  only.  The  respectful  and 
affectionate  manner  with  which  Emilchen 
92 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


treated  Mrs.  Barmann  was  returned  by 
almost  divine  adoration. 

"  Lord,  what  a  pearl,  what  a  Tachshid 
Mamsell  Katz  is !  "  she  exclaimed  every  day 
to  her  son,  who  never  contradicted  her. 

Every  evening  Mrs.  Jochebedchen  calcu- 
lated the  days  since  the  notice  for  Jacob 
Marcus  had  begun  to  appear  in  the  papers. 
Each  day  that  did  not  bring  him  was  like 
a  day  won  for  her  anxious  heart.  If  the 
limit  of  time  set  by  the  will  should  pass  by, 
thus  she  dreamed,  if  that  man  were  dead,  or 
if  he  had  fallen  in  with  the  wild  Indians  in 
America  and  had  disappeared,  if  the  house 
and  the  entire  fortune  should  pass  over  to 
her  son,  then,  even  if  Feidel  or  Goldschmidt 
should  offer  him  a  daughter  with  a  hundred 
thousand,  he  ought  not  to  marry  any  other 
than  Mamsell  Katz,  even  though  she  be  ten 
times  disinherited  and  a  Schlemihlte.  For 
she  knew  too  well  what  was  secretly  gnaw- 
ing at  the  poor  young  man*s  heart,  and  God 
the  Almighty  would  be  sensible  enough  not 
93 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

to  prefer  a  vagabond  to  so  good  a  son  as 
hers. 

These  were  the  thoughts  of  Mrs.  Joche- 
bedchen  of  an  evening  when  she  sat  down 
at  the  fire-place  with  folded  arms  after  hav- 
ing washed  the  dishes.  By  day  she  was 
seized  with  alarm  whenever  a  stranger  en- 
tered the  house.  Suspecting  the  loathed 
creature  in  every  unfamiliar  face,  she  would 
waddle  to  the  front  door  whenever  it  opened, 
wiping  her  fat  hands  on  her  apron. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  she  cried  out  to  every 
new-comer,  and  a  stone  fell  from  her  sur- 
charged heart  when  the  answer  came, 

"Rosenbaum,"  "  Lilienfeld,"  or  "  Blu- 
menthal." 

As  the  year  wore  on,  her  hopes  grew  in 
proportion,  and  she  began  to  assume  a  sort 
of  protecting  attitude  toward  Emilchen. 

"  You  will  see,  Mamsell  Katz,"  she  said, 
**  what  my  son  is.  My  son  is  no  ox."  And 
she  smiled  with  a  mixed  sense  of  pride  and 
condescension. 

94 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


A  second  year  passed.  The  house  at  the 
"  Graben  "  had  undergone  no  change,  save 
that  the  business  kept  constantly  increasing, 
and  large  prizes  were  repeatedly  paid  out 
through  the  firm  of  Marcus,  whereby  the 
lottery  office  continued  to  gain  in  custom. 

Emilchen's  Brunswicker  was  also  drawn, 
but  it  turned  up  blank. 

Purim  came  again.  This  day  of  double 
mourning  had  ceased  to  be  a  feast  of  joy 
for  the  poor  girl.  It  filled  her  with  super- 
stitious dread;  which  is  readily  comprehen- 
sible. She  longed  for  the  day  to  end.  But 
this  time  it  passed  without  any  mischance, 
unless  it  could  be  accounted  a  mischance  that 
the  little  weekly  which  appeared  in  the  even- 
ing announced,  among  the  arrivals  in  the 
city,  James  Marcus  of  Baltimore,  at  the 
Hotel  "  Zum  Ritter.'* 

Emilchen  had  not  read  the  paper,  nor,  of 
course,  had  Mrs.  Jochebedchen.  In  the  con- 
sciousness of  security,  the  old  woman  had 
long  ceased  to  rush  to  the  door  to  meet 
96 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Strangers ;  and  the  next  day,  when  a  man  of 
scarcely  thirty  years  entered  the  corridor, 
and  inquired  for  Mr.  Barmann,  she  very 
accommodatingly  showed  him  the  door  to 
the  office.  He  was  a  sturdy,  stocky  fellow 
with  high  color  in  his  face,  framed  by  two 
short  strips  of  side- whiskers.  He  was  dressed 
in  high  leather  boots  and  a  short  brown 
bear  skin  coat,  such  as  is  worn  by  the  farmers 
and  the  cattle-dealers  of  the  region.  But 
the  sharp  eye  of  Mrs.  Jochebed  had  not 
overlooked  a  diamond  pin,  a  thick,  gold, 
watch-chain,  and  a  huge  seal-ring  on  his 
massive  hand.  So  scenting  a  good  piece  of 
business,  she  obsequiously  opened  the  door 
of  the  office  for  him,  where  her  son  met  him 
with  a  pen  stuck  behind  his  ear. 

"  Mr.  Barmann  ?  '*  asked  the  stranger  in 
a  foreign  accent. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  Barmann.  *  Whom 
have  I  the  honor  to  speak  to  ?  "  he  continued, 
as  he  led  the  stranger  into  the  office. 

"  O,  don't  you  know  me  any  more,  Mr. 
96 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


Barmann?  I  am  James,  or  rather,  Jacob 
Marcus." 

Mrs.  Jochebedchen  caught  the  name  as  the 
door  closed  after  her.  It  was  a  knife-thrust 
through  her  heart. 

"  Shem  Yishmerenu !  "  she  cried,  and  she 
had  to  cHng  to  the  balustrade  for  support. 
He  had  come,  the  dreaded  spectre,  clothed  in 
living  flesh ! 

The  man  who  had  so  suddenly  and  so 
rudely  shattered  her  hopes  was  the  son  of 
old  Marcus's  brother.  His  father  had  been 
a  trader  who  carried  his  wares  from  farm  to 
farm,  and  had  his  home  in  a  little  provincial 
town. 

All  the  time  that  Uncle  Marcus,  who  had 
come  to  the  capital  from  the  same  little  town, 
was  painfully  working  his  way  upward,  he 
supported  his  brother  and  honestly  shared 
his  savings  with  him.  The  claims  of  his 
brother's  family  grew  with  his  own  wealth, 
but  he  resisted  them  stubbornly,  and  reduced 
them  to  within  very  modest  bounds.  It  was 
97 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  old  man  to 
have  no  more  "  heart  "  for  his  own  folk 
than  for  those  who  were  remote  from  him. 

"  Let  them  exert  themselves,"  he  said. 
"  I've  had  to  work  hard  myself,  and  I  won't 
let  them  skin  me,"  and  "  all  such  like  things 
more." 

When  the  brother  died.  Uncle  Marcus, 
after  long  hesitation,  resolved  to  take  his 
only  son  into  his  house.  Jacob,  then  sixteen 
years  old,  was  a  callow  youth,  untrained 
both  spiritually  and  intellectually.  He  at, 
once  began  to  look  upon  himself  as  heir  to" 
the  house,  and  since  his  allowance  of  pocket- 
money  was  in  truth  somewhat  too  scant,  he 
incurred  debts  in  his  uncle's  name,  and  went 
about  to  cafes  and  dancing  halls.  He  gave 
the  old  man's  sense  of  economy  such  great 
offence  that  violent  quarrels  often  broke  out 
between  the  two. 

The  uncle  refused  to  pay  the  young  fel- 
low's debts,  and  threatened  to  leave  him  in 
the  hands  of  public  justice.    In  the  end  his 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


kind  heart  prevailed,  but  inwardly  he  felici- 
tated everybody  who  had  no  relatives. 

Jacob  was  scarcely  available  in  the  busi- 
ness, and  as  the  uncle  gradually  lost  all  con- 
fidence in  him,  he  took  the  fatherless  boy 
Barmann  in  as  his  assistant.  Barmann  soon 
made  himself  indispensable  to  the  old  man, 
by  his  industry,  intelligence,  and  modesty. 
This  was  too  much  for  Jacob,  and  he  pur- 
posely provoked  quarrels  and  brutal  scenes. 
Once  when  the  old  man  talked  to  him  rather 
strongly,  he  forgot  himself  so  far  as  to  turn 
upon  his  benefactor  with  insolent  abuse. 
The  next  morning  Uncle  Marcus  gave  him 
the  receipted  bills  for  all  his  debts  and  a 
moderate  sum  of  money,  with  the  order  to 
leave  his  house,  and  never  come  in  his  sight 
again.  The  boy  left,  spite  in  his  heart,  with- 
out taking  leave  of  his  uncle. 

Barmann  was  consumed  with  remorse. 
He  blamed  himself  for  having  separated 
relatives,  perhaps  forever.  Though  he  felt 
innocent,   he  tormented   himself   with   the 

99 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

thought  that  he  might  be  suspected  of  having 
brought  about  this  end  for  selfish  reasons. 
He  constantly  endeavored  to  appease  the 
uncle,  and  was  unremitting  in  hunting  up 
traces  of  Jacob's  whereabouts.  He  succeeded 
in  getting  the  information  that  Jacob  had 
gone  to  America,  and  there,  in  the  country 
of  labor,  had  learned  to  work.  Barmann  had 
a  boyhood  friend  of  his  in  New  York,  a 
watchmaker,  visit  Jacob,  and  deliver  a  letter 
to  him,  in  which  he  begged  him  most  heartily 
to  repent  and  return  home  to  his  family. 
Besides,  the  letter  contained  a  part  of  Bar- 
mann's  savings.  The  answer  came  after  a 
long  lapse  of  time.  Jacob  returned  the 
money,  and  wrote  he  needed  no  charity, 
either  from  his  family  or,  still  less,  from 
strangers.  What  he  needed  he  himself 
earned,  and  he  no  longer  had  to  concern 
himself  about  anybody.  However,  he  wished 
his  uncle  health  and  long  life. 

These  last  words,  which  Barmann  read 
out  triumphantly,  touched  the  old  man.    The 
100 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


self-confidence  of  the  young  man  who  had 
learned  to  work  for  his  bread,  he  considered 
a  radical  improvement.  The  pride  with 
which  he  turned  back  a  stranger's  assistance 
brought  a  satisfied  smile  to  his  lips.  He 
made  Barmann  write  him  another  letter  in 
his  name,  in  which  he  asked  him  to  return 
to  his  "  paternal  home."  But  this  letter, 
as  well  as  all  sent  subsequently,  remained 
unanswered.  Though  he  never  spoke  of  his 
nephew,  the  old  man  thought  of  him  with 
secret  sorrow  and  quiet  self-reproach.  All 
alone  as  he  was,  he  sometimes  felt  the  in- 
gratitude or  the  lovelessness  of  strangers,  or 
their  greed  and  self-seeking  under  the  guise 
of  tenderness.  Then  his  conscience  smote 
him  for  the  severity  with  which  he  had 
treated  his  only  relative.  It  was  probably 
when  in  this  mood  that  he  drew  up  his  will. 
Jacob,  according  to  the  account  he  later 
gave,  had  used  the  money  his  uncle  had  given 
him  to  buy  a  steerage  passage  on  an  emigrant 
ship  that  carried  its  unhappy  cargo  from 
101 


StORteS  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Hamburg  to  New  York.  With  only  a  few 
dollars  in  his  pocket  he  entered  the  harbor 
of  the  huge  city,  where  every  man  has  time 
and  interest  only  for  himself.  Everything 
was  strange  to  him,  even  the  language,  and 
he  had  learned  no  trade.  But  he  had  hands, 
and  right  powerful  hands,  \^hich  in  the  land 
of  business  could  easily  be  turned  into 
capital. 

At  first  he  spent  every  cent  of  his  earnings 
on  drink,  and  often  had  to  seek  his  night's 
lodging  under  the  open  sky.  Necessity, 
however,  teaches  man  not  only  how  to  pray 
but  also  how  to  save.  Jacob  involuntarily 
drew  a  comparison  between  the  low-down 
drunkards  and  paupers,  and  the  sober,  in- 
dustrious self-made  men  to  whom  the  high- 
est offices  are  open  in  the  land  of  freedom. 
His  sound  judgment  gradually  prevailed 
over  his  brutal  inclinations.  An  ideal  arose 
before  his  vision,  the  dazzling  god  wor- 
shipped in  America  above  everything  else. 
His  aim  became  "  to  make  money."  The 
102 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


gold  mines  of  California  had  been  discov- 
ered ;  thousands  of  pilgrims  streamed  to  the 
god's  new  miraculous  shrine.  Jacob  was 
swept  along  in  the  current ;  and  in  the  mmes 
of  California  disappeared  from  the  view  and 
the  quest  of  his  European  friends. 

After  a  number  of  years  he  returned  east 
with  his  booty,  to  Baltimore,  where  he 
settled  down  as  Mr.  James  Marcus,  dealer  in 
cattle  and  hides.  It  was  in  Baltimore  that 
he  read  the  notice  summoning  him  home  as 
the  heir  of  his  uncle. 

An  expression  of  joy  unalloyed  by  any 
other  feeling  flitted  across  the  lean  face  of 
Barmann  when  he  heard  the  name  of  Jacob 
Marcus.  He  looked  over  his  glasses  at  the 
stout  figure,  not  failing  to  notice  the  glitter- 
ing diamond  scarf  pin  that  had  so  impressed 
his  mother.  He  soon  distinguished  the  feat- 
ures of  his  old  acquaintance  in  the  browned 
countenance,  and  put  out  both  hands  to  him 
heartily. 

108 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Thank  God  you  are  here,  Mr.  Marcus ! 
You  don't  look,  unbeschrieen,  as  if  you 
needed  your  sainted  uncle's  fortune." 

"  So  far  as  that's  concerned,  Mr.  Bar- 
mann,"  returned  Mr.  James,  sticking  his 
broad  hands  up  to  the  thumbs  into  his 
trousers'  pockets,  "  you  know  best  of  all 
that  I  haven't  grown  fat  from  what  my  uncle 
gave  me.  I've  had  to  toil  and  moil  and 
undergo  all  kinds  of  hardships,  while  you 
earned  your  money  sitting  quietly  behind 
your  desk.  If  I  had  died  over  there  like  a 
dog,  he  wouldn't  have  cared.  He  always  did 
more  for  strangers  than  for  his  own.  At 
least,  his  money  shall  not  fall  into  strange 
hands  now  that  he's  dead.  But,"  he  con- 
tinued, seeing  the  pained  expression  on  Bar- 
mann's  face,  "  it's  my  principle  to  let  by- 
gones be  by-gones.  I  didn't  come  here  on  a 
*  sentimental  journey.'  I  came  here  on  busi- 
ness. I  placed  my  papers  in  the  city  court 
and  in  the  hands  of  the  Jewish  attorney,  and 
they  found  them  all  right.  I've  also  read  the 
104 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


will.  Now,  to  settle  the  matter  as  quickly 
as  possible,  I  came  here  myself,  though  I 
know  my  appearance  won't  make  a  pleasant 
impression  upon  you." 

"  You're  mistaken,  Mr.  Marcus,"  an- 
swered Barmann,  placing  his  hand  on  his 
heart,  either  from  a  desire  to  affirm  his  state- 
ment or  to  restrain  its  violent  beating. 
"  You're  mistaken !  God  is  my  witness.  If 
you  think  such  a  thing  you  insult  your 
sainted  uncle  in  his  grave.  It  was  his  wish  as 
well  as  mine.  But  you're  right.  It's  better 
for  us  to  get  down  to  business  at  once.  The 
books  are  ready  for  your  inspection.  With 
the  help  of  God,  the  fortune  your  uncle  left 
you  has  increased  considerably.  You  can  see 
for  yourself  what  it  amounts  to  now,  because 
I've  kept  things  in  shape  so  that  at  any  mo- 
ment I  could  give  you  a  complete  account. 
If  you  look  into  this  ledger  " — ^he  opened  a 
folio  volume  bound  in  green  linen —  "  and 
deduct  the  sum  left  me  by  my  noble  bene- 
factor from  the  value  of  the  property  at  that 

106 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

time,  and  discount  it  in  proper  ratio  from  its 
present  value,  then  all  the  rest,  including  the 
house,  is  your  undisputed  possession." 

Mr.  James  leaned  both  elbows  on  the  desk, 
and  ran  his  eyes  through  the  ledger  with  the 
air  of  an  auditor.  He  whipped  a  gold  pencil 
from  his  trousers'  pocket,  wrote  down  a 
series  of  numbers  on  the  pad,  and  began  to 
multiply  and  divide,  murmuring  German 
and  English  numbers  in  motley  promiscuity. 

"At  what  do  you  value  the  house?"  he 
asked  without  interrupting  his  calculations. 

"  Fifteen  thousand  thalers  is  the  estimate 
placed  upon  it,"  Barmann  answered  with 
business-like  imperturbability. 

Mr.  James  drew  a  thick  line  under  his 
calculations,  and  threw  down  the  pencil 
scornfully. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  The  old  man  v/as  reputed 
a  millionaire." 

"  Have  the  books  verified  in  court,"  Bar- 
mann answered  curtly  and  sharply.  His 
blood  boiled.  All  the  brutal  scenes  through 
10$ 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


which  he  had  passed  on  the  same  spot  rose 
to  his  memory  again,  and  he  recognized 
the  insolent  Hnes  around  the  mouth  that 
had  once  uttered  insult  against  his  noble 
benefactor. 

James  Marcus  planted  himself  squarely, 
and  stuck  his  beringed  hand  into  his  vest- 
pocket. 

"  Well,  that  would  be  the  best  way  to  clear 
the  matter  up.  I  have  no  desire  to  stop  here 
long,  still  less  to  settle  here,  and  keep  up  this 
frippery  concern.  Money  yields  a  better  rate 
of  interest  in  America.  I'll  let  the  city  office 
appoint  a  representative  to  audit  the  books, 
and  sell  the  house  and  business.  And  now," 
he  concluded,  taking  his  hat,  "  I  think  every- 
thing between  us  is  all  right." 

Barmann  held  him  back  by  the  arm,  and 
said  calmly : 

"  Not  everything  yet.     There's  still  one 
matter  to  be  arranged  between  us,  a  duty  of 
piety  toward  your  sainted  uncle,  a  duty  of 
gratitude  toward  a  person — " 
107 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

James  interrupted  him  brusquely.  His 
broad  forehead  turned  purple. 

"  Let  me  alone !  "  he  cried.  "  Don't  speak 
to  me  about  piety  and  gratitude.  Don't 
remind  me  of  the  treatment  I  received  in  this 
house.  I  owe  nobody  any  piety.  I'm  under 
obligations  to  nobody.  If  I  didn't  starve  to 
death,  I,  the  only  relative  of  the  old  miser, 
it  was  because  of  these  two  hands.  And  with 
these  hands  I'll  take  what  is  mine,  and  I'll 
not  let  myself  be  cheated  out  of  one  single 
penny.  I'm  a  stranger  in  this  house,  and 
let  him  who  made  me  a  stranger  answer  for 
it.  It's  been  your  duty  up  to  this  time  to 
manage  the  property,  and  you  have  nothing 
to  speak  to  me  about  except  business." 

He  struck  the  table  a  blow  with  his  fist 
that  set  it  trembling.  Barmann  trembled 
still  more  violently  as  he  replied  in  jerky 
monosyllables : 

"  What  I  am  telling  you  about  is  also  busi- 
ness, Mr.  Marcus.     It  concerns  a  debt  of 
honor  not  marked  down  in  these  books." 
108 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


"  What  is  it?  "  James  asked  more  calmly. 

"  It's  about  Miss  Katz." 

"  Miss  Katz?    Who's  Miss  Katz?  " 

"  The  daughter  of  a  relative,  the  widow 
Katz.  You  probably  remember  her.  Your 
uncle  was  guardian  of  her  daughter,  and 
took  her  into  his  house  a  few  years  before  his 
death." 

A  cynical  smile  flitted  across  the  broad  lips 
of  the  American. 

"  She  cared  for  your  uncle,"  Barmann 
continued  with  growing  warmth,  "  as  ten- 
derly as  a  daughter.  She  replaced  the  affec- 
tion of  his  own  kith  and  kin,  the  lack  of 
which  he  always  felt  so  keenly." 

"  Remarkable !  "  returned  James  with  a 
sneer  that  showed  his  large  teeth.  "  The 
will  does  not  mention  a  word  about  Miss 
Katz." 

Barmann  was  silent  a  moment,  taken 
aback. 

"  That's  just  the  point —  "  he  continued. 

"  He  must  have  provided  for  her  so  much 

109 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  better  in  his  hfetime,"  James  sneered 
again. 

"  He  didn't  give  her  a  single  penny !  '* 
cried  Barmann,  indignantly.  "  And  I  forbid 
you  to  cast  aspersions  on  the  girl  with  such 
insinuations !  He  instructed  me  as  executor 
of  the  estate  to  manage  it  in  his  spirit,  and 
I  invited  Miss  Katz  to  remain  in  this  house. 
So  now  it  is  your  duty  to  provide  for  her 
future,  for  it  ill  becomes  you  to  turn  your 
uncle's  ward  summarily  out  of  doors  by  sell- 
ing this  house.  In  the  name  of  the  dead  I 
forbid  you  to  do  it." 

Mr.  James  stuck  his  hands  into  his  trous- 
ers' pockets,  and  calmly  surveying  the  little 
man  who  wanted  to  impress  him,  said  with  a 
sarcastic  smile : 

"  Don't  make  yourself  ridiculous,  Bar- 
mann. H  you  have  entered  upon  my  uncle's 
inheritance  in  such  a  way  that  you  have  even 
retained  Miss  Katz  in  your  house,  it's  none 
of  my  business." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  cried  Bar- 

110 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


mann,  pressing  his  clenched  fist  to  his  breast. 

"  I  mean  to  tell  you,"  James  answered 
with  a  threatening  look,  "  that  I  hope  you 
have  supported  Miss  Katz  out  of  your  own 
legacy.  Otherwise  I  should  have  to  get 
the  city  to  investigate  how  much  my  pro- 
perty has  been  reduced  through  you,  or  how 
much  I  have  been  cheated  of  by  this  lady. 
You  understand  me,  Mr.  Barmann?" 

Barmann  did  understand  him.  All  the 
blood  left  his  face,  and  he  was  unable  to 
utter  a  word.  His  tongue  was  paralyzed. 
But  when  James  took  up  his  hat  to  go,  he 
jumped  upon  him  in  one  bound,  like  a  tiger, 
and  convulsively  dug  his  fingers  into  the 
sinewy  arms  of  the  American. 

"Come  with  me!"  he  thundered. 

"  Where  to  ?"  asked  James,  visibly  taken 
aback  by  the  little  man's  violence. 

"  Come  with  me !  "  cried  Barmann,  pull- 
ing the  door  open;  and  holding  to  the  bal- 
ustrade with  one  hand,  he  dragged  the  re- 
sisting James  after  him  with  the  other. 
Ill 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Where  to?  "  cried  James  again. 

"  To  Miss  Katz,"  answered  Barmann. 

The  sound  of  the  name  seemed  to  restore 
his  self-command.  He  leaped  up  the  stair- 
way in  a  few  springs,  and  before  the  as- 
tounded American  had  time  to  tear  himself 
from  his  grasp,  he  was  knocking  violently  at 
a  door.  A  soft  "  come  in  "  was  the  response, 
and  the  next  moment  the  two  men  stood 
before  Emilchen. 

She  was  sitting  at  the  window,  at  work 
with  a  thick  wooden  needle,  crocheting  a  red 
woolen  shawl  for  Barmann.  When  the  two 
men  entered,  she  rose  in  surprise.  Mr. 
James  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  the  girl's  homely 
figure.  As  always  when  surprised,  Emil- 
chen was  trembling  violently.  A  sudden 
recollection  of  the  Schlemihlchen  of  old 
brought  an  ironic  smile  to  his  broad  lips, 
which  did  not  escape  Barmann.  Whatever 
interpretation  he  put  upon  it,  it  added  still 
further  to  his  exasperation.  At  that  moment 
he  was  no  longer  the  Meshores  of  old,  but 
112 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


the  representative  of  his  master  and  bene- 
factor, and  energetic  self-confidence  steeled 
every  fibre  of  his  being.  A  gleam  of  knight- 
hood flashed  from  the  eyes  of  the  little  Jew- 
ish youth,  as  from  the  eyes  of  David  when 
the  insolent  Goliath  taunted  him. 

Mr.  Marcus,  with  the  civility  of  an  Amer- 
ican toward  ladies,  came  up  to  Emilchen 
with  a  "  how  do  you  do,"  and  extended  his 
hand  to  her.  But  Barmann  quickly  placed 
himself  between  them,  and  endeavoring  with 
difficulty  to  speak  in  a  calm  voice  said : 

"  Miss  Katz,  this  man,  Mr.  Jacob  Mar- 
cus,"— Emilchen  started  with  delight  at  the 
mention  of  the  name — "  this  man  does  not 
come  to  you  as  a  relative  and  friend.  He  has 
declared  himself  a  stranger  in  this  house. 
By  the  language  he  has  used,  he  has  forfeited 
all  rights  on  your  welcome."  Emilchen 
clutched  at  the  table-cloth  convulsively,  and 
crushed  it  in  her  hand.  "  He  comes  as  a 
business  man,"  continued  Barmann,  "  and 
thinks  you  and  I  have  reduced  his  fortune. 
113 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Tell  him  yourself  whether  in  the  lifetime  of 
your  uncle  you — " 

He  could  not  proceed,  for  Emilchen  grew 
deathly  pale,  her  crocheting  fell  from  her 
hands,  and  she  seemed  on  the  point  of  col- 
lapsing.   James  pushed  a  chair  under  her. 

"  It's  not  my  fault,  Miss  Katz,"  he  said, 
"  if  you  are  questioned  in  this  way.  I 
simply  asked  Mr.  Barmann  whether  in  the 
lifetime  of  my  uncle —  " 

"  Repeat  your  suspicion.  Go  ahead !  " 
cried  Barmann.  "  Tell  Miss  Katz  to  her 
face  what  you  dared  to  say  behind  her  back ! 
You  refuse  to  say  anything,  Miss  Katz? 
You  are  right.  Let  him  find  out  for  himself 
what  you  possess,  you  who  for  years  took 
his  place  so  modestly  in  this  house,  and 
made  no  demands  for  yourself.  You,  sir, 
take  the  keys,  examine  her  chests  and  draw- 
ers, as  you  did  my  books,  and  see  whether 
you  have  been  cheated.  Take  everything. 
Miss  Katz  doesn't  want  any  of  your 
property." 

114 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


"  No,  I  don*t,  not  a  thing !  "  cried  Emil- 
chen.    "  Take  everything  Uncle  gave  me !  " 

Barmann  opened  his  eyes  wide,  and  the 
American  measured  him  with  a  look  of  tri- 
umphant superiority. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  *'  Bar- 
mann cried,  paling.  "  What  did  you  receive 
from  your  uncle  ?  Speak !  For  God's  sake, 
answer !  " 

But  Emilchen  did  not  answer.  She  hid 
her  face  in  both  arms  on  the  table,  and  her 
head  whirled  with  chaotic  thoughts.  In 
obedience  to  a  silent  vow,  she  had  kept  a  cer- 
tain thing  secret  from  everybody  for  years. 
Was  she  to  expose  it  now  to  one  from  whom 
the  tenderest  feelings  of  her  heart  had 
prompted  her  to  conceal  it?  Expose  it  now 
in  the  presence  of  another,  whose  brutality 
made  her  own  feelings  seem  inexpressible 
to  her  and  incomprehensible  ? 

Barmann  waited  with  trembling,  uplifted 
hands,  and  James  feasted  his  eyes  on  her 
embarrassment. 

116 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Let  it  go !"  he  cried  with  an  arrogant  air 
of  magnanimity.  "  Don't  you  see  how  con- 
fused Miss  Katz  is?  I  don't  care  to  search 
the  house ! " 

"  But  you  shall !  "  Barmann  cried,  beside 
himself  with  rage,  the  swelling  veins  on  his 
pale  forehead  showing  dark  blue.  "  If  you 
misinterpret  the  confusion  of  an  outraged 
heart  according  to  your  own  base  thoughts, 
then  you  shall  at  least  stand  abashed  before 
her  poverty.  Here,  look !  "  He  seized  the 
brass  handles  of  the  bureau,  and  shook  the 
drawer  so  violently  that  the  lock  jumped 
open  with  a  crash.  "  Here,  see  the  wealth 
she  has  accumulated,  the  wealth  of  which 
you  have  been  robbed !  " 

"  Hold  on !  "  cried  James.  "  What  right 
have  you  to  mix  in  the  affairs  of  Miss 
Katz?" 

"  What     right  ? "     answered     Barmann, 

glowing  with  his  love  for  her.    "  Because  I 

know  this  girl,  and  respect  her,  this  poor 

girl  whose  only  wealth  is  in  her  heart.    Do 

116 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


you  think  because  I  kept  quiet  when  you 
insulted  your  noble  uncle  and  myself,  do  you 
think  I  am  going  to  let  you  insult  this 
woman?  Why,  if  you  hadn't  returned,  and 
I  had  been  encouraged  by  what  I  inherited 
from  her  uncle,  Fd  have  made  her  my — " 

The  word  died  on  his  lips.  He  did  not 
see  that  Emilchen  suddenly  arose,  and  fixed 
her  large  eyes  upon  him.  He  saw  only 
his  inner  ego  suddenly  issuing  forth,  and  it 
frightened  him.  With  a  violence  that  con- 
cealed his  confusion,  he  hurled  himself  upon 
the  bureau,  and  began  to  fling  out  its  sorry 
store  of  faded  ribbons  and  worthless  lace. 
"There,  take  it!  Take  it!"  he  cried. 
"  Miss  Emilchen  wants  nothing  from  you 
any  more.  Drive  her  out  of  the  house  of 
your  benefactor.  Miss  Katz  needs  no  other 
protector  than — " 

His  fingers  grabbed  a  pocket-book,  which 

he  pulled  out  and  opened.     A  dried  flower 

fell  on  the  floor,  a  large  folded  envelope  lay 

within.    With  the  quick  eye  of  a  falcon  the 

117 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

American  spied  the  paper,  and  seized  it 
hastily.  Emilchen  wanted  to  run  up  to  him, 
but  her  feet  remained  rooted  to  the  floor. 
Barmann  stared  over  his  glasses  at  the  super- 
scription on  the  envelope.  In  the  large  help- 
less hand  of  old  Marcus  he  saw  the  single 
word  "  Codicil." 

He  felt  as  though  he  had  awakened  from  a 
nightmare.  His  wizened  fingers  made  a 
grab  between  the  stout  hands  of  his  oppon- 
ent, and  drew  the  paper  out  of  its  envelope. 

"  Read  it !  "  he  cried.  The  command 
sounded  like  a  shout  of  joy. 

James  began  to  read  to  himself,  while 
Barmann  read  out  loud : 

"  To  my  dear  ward  Emilie  Katz,  who 
tended  me  so  faithfully  and  disinterestedly 
in  the  last  years  of  my  life,  and  replaced  the 
affection  which  my  own  relatives  denied  me, 
I  bequeath  thirty  thousand  Rhenish  gulden 
in  cash  as  restitution  for  the  Frankfort 
lottery  ticket  the  winnings  of  which  I  wanted 
to  present  to  her.  If  she  should  not  desire; 
118 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


to  withdraw  the  money  from  the  business 
immediately  after  my  death,  she  is  to  receive 
the  current  rate  of  interest  upon  it  from  the 
day  of  my  death.  Furthermore,  I  desire  my 
heir,  whoever  he  may  be,  to  let  her  have  the 
apartment  one  flight  up  in  my  house  at  the 
*  Graben  '  and  wood,  light,  and  all  such  like 
things  more  to  the  blessed  end  of  her  life. 

"  Isaiah  Marcus,  guardian  of  the  orphan 
Emilie  Katz." 

This  was  followed  by  the  date  and  the  seal 
of  the  notary,  Dr.  Karl  Nebelthau. 

A  pause.  During  which  Barmann  re- 
garded Emilchen  as  if  she  were  a  riddle, 
while  Emilchen  sank  her  eyes  as  if  ashamed 
of  the  discovery,  and  James  folded  the  paper 
looking  in  amazement  at  the  incompre- 
hensible girl,  who  possessed  a  fortune  yet 
did  not  care  to  claim  it.  He  suddenly  began 
to  see  her  with  different  eyes.  She  no  longer 
made  such  a  bad  impression  upon  him.  In 
comparison  with  himself,  sole  heir,  he  did 
not  rate  Barmann's  chances  with  her  very 
119 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

high.  He  drew  himself  up,  and  played  with 
his  heavy  gold  chain. 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  at  once, 
cousin  ?  "  he  said  smiling  and  displaying  his 
large  teeth.    "  I  should  have—" 

"  You  would  not  have  accused  me  of  steal- 
ing !  "  Emilchen  broke  in,  understanding 
his  smile,  and  feeling  still  more  deeply  in- 
sulted. 

"  That  was  a  mistake,"  returned  James, 
"  but  you  yourself  are  to  blame.  We  prac- 
tical Americans  don't  understand  such 
affairs.  In  fact,  I  still  fail  to  comprehend — 
but  that's  no  concern  of  mine.  The  paper  is 
all  right,  and  it's  a  matter  of  simple  figuring 
to  determine  how  much  less  value  the  house 
has  now.  Anyway,"  he  continued,  shoving 
up  his  vest  and  sticking  his  thumb  in  his 
leather  belt,  "  anyway  you  need  have  no  pity 
on  me.  I  don't  care  a  snap  for  the  sneaking 
little  sum  of  money  he  made  over  to  you. 
In  fact,  I  don't  need  his  fortune  at  all.  If 
I  came  over  to  fetch  it,  it  was  only  to  get  a 
120 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


last  whack  at  the  old  man  in  his  grave  for 
having  closed  his  heart  and  his  purse  to  me 
while  alive." 

Emilchen  raised  her  eyes  to  the  sky.  She 
wanted  to  avenge  the  insult  of  the  dead  man 
with  a  word,  but  her  trembling  lips  were 
powerless  to  utter  it.  Barmann  came  to  the 
rescue. 

"  Miss  Katz,"  he  said,  "  thank  the  gentle- 
man. Now  you  can  enter  upon  your  inherit- 
ance with  perfect  serenity  of  mind.  You 
were  Mr.  Marcus's  daughter,  and  this  man 
in  inheriting  his  property  has  cut  you  off 
from  what  is  yours  by  right." 

James  seized  his  hat.  He  was  possessed 
by  a  feeling  akin  to  embarrassment. 

**  My  representative  will  smooth  out 
everything,"  he  said.  "  I  am  going,  and  in 
case  I  don't  see  you  again,  I  wish  you  good- 
by,  Miss  Katz." 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  her,  but  Emilchen 
did  not  take  it. 

Barmann  accompanied  James  to  the  stair- 
121 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

case.  When  they  left  the  room,  Emilchen 
broke  down.  The  excitement,  the  anxiety, 
the  joy  were  too  much  for  her.  Hot  tears 
rolled  down  her  cheeks.  Then  she  raised 
her  eyes  as  if  to  ask  Heaven  whether  it 
all  hadn't  been  a  dream,  whether  those  words 
of  Barmann — but  lo!  There  he  was  him- 
self! He  looked  at  her,  she  looked  at  him 
with  her  large  moist  eyes.  The  reproach 
he  was  about  to  utter  because  of  her  myster- 
ious silence  died  upon  his  lips.  He  was 
ashamed  of  the  confession  his  towering  rage 
had  wrung  from  him.  He  waited  for  a 
word  from  her,  but  she  could  find  none.  At 
last,  she  said :  "  You  are  angry  with  me  ?  " 
"  O  no,  not  that,"  stammered  Barmann, 
"but  tell  me,  why  didn't  you  let  me  know 
about  the  legacy  ?  " 

"  Because — I   don't  know — Barmann — " 
"  O  you  know  very  well.     It's  not  for 
nothing  you  let  me  doubt  the  magnanimity 
of  your  guardian!    But  you  have  no  confi- 
dence in  me,  either !  " 

122 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


"  Then  in  whom  have  I  confidence?  "  she 
cried  in  a  tone  that  issued  from  the  inner- 
most depths  of  her  heart. 

"  Tell  me,  then,"  and  he  seized  her  hand, 
which  still  trembled  lightly,  "  didn't  you 
know  what  that  paper  of  your  uncle  con- 
tained?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  she  said,  dropping  her  eyes. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  not  to  speak  about  it?  " 

"  O  no,  — " 

"  Then,  tell  me,  why,  my  dear  Miss  Emil- 
chen,  why  did  you  keep  quiet  about  it,  and 
conceal  it  from  everybody?  " 

Emilchen  bent  down,  and  picked  up  the 
dried  lilac.  While  pulling  it  to  pieces  she 
said: 

"  Because  I  made  a  silent  vow,  dear  Bar- 
mann,  that  no  one  should  know  I  had  money. 
I  didn't  want  anyone  to  come  again  and 
offer  to  marry  me  for  the  sake  of  my  thirty 
thousand  gulden." 

She  threw  away  the  denuded  stalk,  and 
looked  shamefacedly  to  the  floor.  Biirmann 
123 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

felt  his  heart  contract.  An  invisible  wall 
seemed  to  be  rising  between  him  and  this 
girl  he  had  loved  so  long. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said  in  a  forced  voice. 
"After  the  experience  you  went  through,  you 
are  justified  in  judging  everybody  else  by 
that  one  man." 

"  Barmann !  "  cried  Emilie,  extending  her 
hand  to  him. 

But  he  did  not  take  it.  He  drew  back  a 
few  steps,  and  cried  out  with  pained  vehe- 
mence : 

"  O,  why  did  I  bring  him  up  here,  why  did 
I  wrench  your  secret  from  you  ?  If  you  had 
remained  the  poor,  disinherited  girl  I 
thought  you,  then  the  dream  of  my  life,  the 
hope  of  my  good  old  mother,  would  have 
been  fulfilled!  Then  I  should  quietly  have 
given  him  his  inheritance,  and  with  the 
modest  portion  that  remained  to  me,  I  should 
have  continued  to  work  honestly  and  peace- 
fully. In  the  end  lopsided  Barmann  with  his 
red  eyes  would  have  plucked  up  courage 
124 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


enough  to  tell  you :  *  Do  you  want  to  share 
my  lot  with  me,  Emilchen  ?  *  And  you  would 
not  have  thought  that  he  who  sues  for  your 
heart  is  only  bent  upon  your  money." 

"  Barmann !  "  exclaimed  Emilchen,  with  a 
cry  from  her  heart.  "  How  can  you  think 
that  of  me?" 

"  Must  I  not,"  he  replied,  "  seeing  you 
kept  it  a  secret  from  me,  too  ?  " 

Emilchen  looked  at  him  reproachfully  and 
at  the  same  time  lovingly. 

'*  Can't  you  really  understand,"  she  said, 
"  why  I  wanted  to  conceal  it  from  you,  from 
you  more  than  from  anybody  else?  Well, 
then,  ril  have  to  tell  you,"  she  continued, 
leaning  her  head  on  his  shoulder.  "  It  was 
because  I  knew  your  thoughts  long  ago.  It 
was  because  you,  good,  modest  man  that  you 
are,  would  never  have  told  the  rich  heiress 
what,  if  I  had  remained  the  poor,  ugly 
Schlemihlchen — " 

She  could  not  conclude  her  sentence,  for 
his  lips  suddenly  sealed  her  mouth.  Two 
126 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

beings  of  scant  beauty  held  each  other  in 
embrace,  two  souls  of  rare  beauty  blended 
into  one. 

Thus  they  stood  clasped  in  each  other's 
arms  for  a  long  time  without  speaking. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Jochebedchen  stole  up 
from  the  kitchen  to  hear  whether  any  acci- 
dent had  befallen  in  the  transaction  she  so 
greatly  feared.  She  listened  at  the  door, 
then  she  wiped  her  hand  on  the  corner  of  her 
apron,  and  softly  turned  the  brass  door-knob. 
The  scene  that  met  her  gaze  brought  tears 
to  her  eyes  and  smiles  to  her  face. 

"  Maze!  and  Broche ! "  she  called  half 
aloud. 

"  Mother !  "  cried  Barmann. 

"  Mother !  "  cried  Emilchen.  And  they 
embraced  the  little  old  woman. 

"Weil,  at  last,  at  last!  So  youVe  ven- 
tured at  last  to  tell  her  you  love  her,  and  *  all 
such  like  things  more,'  as  he,  peace  be  with 
him,  would  have  said." 

At  this  reminiscence,  the  happy  couple 

126 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


looked  heavenward  and  smiled.  It  seemed 
to  them  they  saw  Uncle  Marcus  with 
the  smile  on  his  wide  mouth  giving  them 
his  blessing — and  "  all  such  like  things 
more." 

The  transactions  with  James's  representa- 
tive were  quickly  settled.  Barmann  bought 
the  business,  and  married  the  girl  of  his 
choice.  Jochebedchen  and  Jeanette,  who 
was  now  called  Madam  Rothschild,  led  Emil- 
chen  to  the  altar.  Madam  Rothschild  had 
brought  with  her  a  whole  silver  service  as 
a  wedding  gift,  and  half  a  wagon-load  of 
Melsungen  butter  cakes  for  the  wedding. 
The  "  educated  "  horse-dealer,  her  husband, 
wanted  to  make  the  couple  a  present  of  a 
magnificent  horse  for  the  "  spinning  vv^heel," 
but  Barmann  declined  it. 

Through  Barmann's  industry  the  business 
flourished ;  and  soon  the  title  of  Lottery  As- 
sessor was  conferred  upon  the  worthy  suc- 
cessor of  Mr.  Marcus,  and  Schlemihlchen 
was  now  called  Frau  Assessorin.  When  old 
127 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Mewes  died,  they  sold  the  "  spinning 
wheel  " ;  for  the  modest  young  couple  pre- 
ferred to  walk  on  foot  to  the  Park,  where 
their  little  son  gathered  chestnuts  in  the 
Monkey  Walk.  He  was  named  Marcus 
after  their  benefactor,  their  never-to-be-for- 
gotten uncle,  and  by  virtue,  no  doubt,  of  the 
old  aphorism  that  two  negatives  make  a  pos- 
itive, he  grew  into  a  handsome  fellow  with 
fair  curly  hair. 

In  the  course  of  time  Jochebedchen  passed 
away.  Despite  her  son's  higher  station  in 
life  she  had  never  left  the  kitchen. 

The  Frau  Assessorin  survived  her  faithful 
husband.  She  transferred  the  business  to 
strange  hands,  because  her  son  displayed  a 
decided  preference  for  classical  studies. 
Marcus  Barmann,  or  Max,  as  he  called  him- 
self when  a  student,  became  a  fine  scholar, 
and  was  the  first  Jew  to  be  appointed  pro- 
fessor at  a  German  university.  His  mother 
did  not  live  to  see  this  honor  conferred  upon 
him.  She  died  only  a  few  weeks  before  the 
128 


SCHLEMIHLCHEN 


event  which  filled  the  entire  community  with 
pride. 

Had  old  Levy  still  been  living,  his  com- 
ment would  have  been : 

"  Schlemihlchen  was  Schlemihlchen  to  the 
very  end." 


129 


RAV'S  MINE 


RAV'S  MINE 

In  May,  when  the  orange  and  lemon  trees 
of  the  orangery  in  the  Park  are  set  out  in 
pots  on  the  open  terrace,  and  cover  the 
ground  or  the  soil  in  the  green  wooden  tubs 
with  their  white  blossoms  and  with  minia- 
ture balls  of  green  fruit  shaken  off  by  the 
wind  before  their  time,  hundreds  of  children 
come  to  gather  the  petals  and  the  fruit  and 
carry  them  off  tied  up  in  knots  made  in  their 
handkerchiefs.  At  one  period,  a  slim,  some- 
what stooping  woman,  with  three  children, 
ranging  from  four  to  eight  years  of  age, 
might  have  been  seen,  almost  every  day, 
strolling  through  the  gate  of  the  Park  along 
the  "  Mergelbahn  " — a  group  as  charming 
as  though  it  had  stepped  out  of  Richter*s 
illustrations  to  the  Kinderlieder. 

The  woman  is  clad  in  a  gray  dress,  an 
old-fashioned  white  shawl  strewn  with 
133 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

palms,  and  a  narrow  little  black  straw  hat, 
the  fashion  of  an  early  day,  which  brings 
the  long  nose  on  the  pale  face  into  greater 
relief.  Two  thin  gray  love-locks  curl  from 
under  the  hat.  The  children  with  their  dark 
curly  heads  and  dark  eyes  look  like  the  little 
angels  at  the  feet  of  the  Sistine  Madonna. 
All  three  want  to  hold  on  to  the  lady's 
hand,  and  they  tease  each  other  amiably  for 
the  privilege.  The  right  hand,  in  the  black 
filet  glove,  belongs  solely  to  the  youngest, 
a  little  maiden;  the  left  hand  has  to  be 
shared  by  the  other  two.  But  if  all  three 
leave  their  place  for  one  second,  lured  away 
by  a  belated  violet  at  the  grassy  edge  of  the 
walk,  or  by  a  chestnut  blossom  hanging  low 
over  their  heads,  the  contest  begins  anew, 
with  a  laughing  and  tumbling  and  a  pluck- 
ing and  scrambling  for  the  loved  leader's 
dress  and  shawl.  Peace  and  order  are  finally 
restored  by  a  smile  and  mock  annoyance,  a 
scolding  and  stolen  kisses.  The  oldest  of 
the  three  then  yields  in  the  consciousness  of 
134 


RAVS  MINE 


his  dignity.  He  knows  full  well  he  is  the 
apple  of  somebody's  eye. 

Thus  they  amble  along  as  far  as  the 
orangery,  where,  given  their  freedom,  the 
children  rush  off  to  the  blossom-hunt.  The 
one  who  finds  a  particularly  big  flower 
brings  it  in  triumph  to  their  companion, 
who  is  resting  on  a  bench  set  in  the  stone 
balustrade  next  to  marble  amourettes  bereft 
of  their  noses,  and  is  gazing  into  space 
across  the  "  Bowling  Green,"  a  large  lawn 
edged  with  marble  statues.  She  seems  to  be 
dreaming.  The  thin  lips  of  the  toothless 
mouth  move  mutely,  and  the  gray  eyes  send 
a  friendly  greeting  to  invisible  figures. 

All  of  a  sudden  a  cry  of  the  children 
awakes  her,  and  she  turns  toward  reality 
with  a  glance  full  of  mother  love.  The 
children,  having  hunted  blossoms  to  their 
hearts'  content,  shake  their  trophies  into  her 
lap,  and  she  immediately  binds  them  into 
the  comers  of  their  handkerchiefs.  Then 
they  whisk  onto  the  bench,  and  press  and 
135 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

squeeze  up  as  close  to  her  as  possible,  and 
caress  her,  slinging  their  short  little  arms 
about  hers. 

"  Tell  us  a  story!    A  fairy  tale! " 

"  A  poem !  "  cries  the  oldest.  "  A  poem 
about  the  *  Good  Man,'  about  Hannchen 
who  was  her  mother's  joy  and  the  pride  of 
the  whole  village !  " 

"  No,  no,  a  song ! "  clamors  the  little 
maiden.  "  A  song !  *  In  Myrtill's  Ruined 
Hut,'  "  and  she  begins  to  chirp  the  melody 
like  a  little  canary  bird. 

The  leader  joins  in,  and  is  followed  by  the 
other  two. 

The  passers-by  smile.  The  captain  of 
the  guards,  whose  horse  waits  at  the  Bowl- 
ing Green,  sneers  ironically  at  the  "  old 
Jewess."  The  swimming  master,  who 
passes  through  the  orangery  with  his  pupils 
on  the  way  to  the  swimming-school,  laughs 
graciously  toward  the  group. 

Who  is  the  woman  with  the  children  ?  A 
governess  ?    Those  glances,  those  kisses  have 

136 


RA\rS  MINE 


never  been  paid  for!  A  mother?  She's 
too  old.  A  grandmother?  She's  too  vir- 
ginal looking.     Then  who  is  she? 

She  is  none  other  than  Rav's  Mine. 

This  was  the  only  name  by  which  she  was 
known  in  the  Jewish  community.  Forty 
years'  use  had  sanctified  it.  Her  name  was 
really  Minkel,  which  translated  into  High 
German  is  Mina,  into  the  popular  speech  of 
our  city,  Mine.  She  was  the  daughter  of 
the  old  Rav,  and  was  known  to  three  gener- 
ations as  Rav's  Mine.  Her  story  is  the  old 
simple  story  of  an  "  unmated  heart." 

They  always  called  him  "  the  old  Rav," 
as  if  he  had  never  been  young.  His  beard 
was  long  and  white,  and  he  wore  a  cocked 
hat.  He  never  left  his  house,  except  to 
officiate  at  funerals,  for  wedding  ceremonies 
were  performed  in  "  Benary's  Shul,"  which 
was  situated  in  his  own  court-yard,  opposite 
to  his  house.  The  old  synagogue  had  been 
closed  because  of  its  dilapidated  condition, 
and  in  its  place  a  number  of  meeting  rooms 
137 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

had  been  furnished  to  permit  the  various 
parties  in  the  community  to  hold  services, 
each  according  to  its  shading  of  the  ritual. 

The  most  orthodox  gathered  in  "  Benary's 
Shul,"  so  named  for  its  founder.  In  this 
room,  blackened  by  the  lamp-smoke  of  many 
years'  making,  the  prayers  were  recited  in 
the  ancient  language,  mumbled  and  shrieked 
in  that  fugued  recitative  which  has  made  an 
epithet  of  "  Judenshul."  Here  the  Sham- 
mes  ruled  undismayed.  He  was  the  brother- 
in-law  of  the  old  Rav.  Ezekiel  Flesh  was 
an  adept  in  loud  groaning  over  his  prayers 
and  in  swaying  his  upper  body  to  and  fro 
like  a  metronome,  in  order  to  praise  the 
Lord  "  with  all  his  bones."  At  the  confes- 
sion of  sins  he  beat  his  old  withered  breast 
so  mightily  with  his  fists  that  his  chest  re- 
sounded like  an  alarm  bell. 

In  this  conventicle  the  old  Rav  every  Sab- 
bath delivered  a  short  Droslie  in  Hebrew, 
acutely  expounding  some  Bible  verse  or  Tal- 
mudic  precept.  At  home  he  "  paskened  "  to 
138 


RAATS  MINE 


doubt-tortured  housewives  as  to  whether  a 
fowl  was  clean  or  unclean,  whether  a  pot 
could  be  retained  in  use,  or  had  to  be  dis- 
carded. His  official  activity  was  limited  to 
these  functions.  The  questions  of  belief 
and  reform  that  were  slowly  disintegrating 
the  community  troubled  the  old  scholar  little. 
He  wanted  to  preserve  the  peace  by  letting 
everybody  do  as  he  wanted  to  do. 

His  brother-in-law  Ezekiel  Flesh  was  of  a 
more  restless  temperament.  He  had  to  em- 
ploy his  fingers  by  constantly  twisting  and 
kneading  a  pellet  of  wax,  and  his  mind  by 
spying  upon  all  transgressors  of  the  Law. 
When  he  came  skulking  in  stealthily  with  a 
fresh  denunciation  to  make,  the  old  Rav 
would  shove  his  black  cap  in  annoyance  to 
one  side  of  his  bare  skull,  and  cry : 

"  Keep  quiet,  Ezekiel,  I  don't  want  to 
know  about  it." 

"  Why  not  ?  " — Ezekiel's  stereotyped  re- 
joinder.   "  You  will  let  things  go  so  far  that 
the  whole  community  will  become  treife." 
139 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

And  growling  and  grumbling,  the  perse- 
cutor would  take  leave  of  the  peace-loving 
old  man. 

But  there  was  another  demon  to  disturb 
the  Rav's  serenity.  It  kept  up  a  constant 
wrangling  in  the  interior  of  his  own  house. 
The  Socrates  had  his  Xantippe.  Though 
the  Rebbetzin  bore  the  amiable  name  of 
Siiss,  her  nature  was  as  sour  as  the  expres- 
sion of  her  face.  She  was  covetous,  miserly, 
quarrelsome,  and  malicious.  Her  gray  vul- 
ture's eyes  detected  every  transgression  in 
the  congregation,  her  yellow  vulture's  claws 
tore  every  victim  to  shreds,  and  like  a  vul- 
ture she  pounced  upon  the  poor  old  Rav 
when  he  drew  in  nourishment  for  his  spirit 
from  the  old  folios  and  commentaries  on  the 
Bible,  the  study  of  which  was  his  one  recre- 
ation. 

Every  evening  pupils  of  the  Jewish  teach- 
ers' seminary  gathered  about  the  learned 
master,  for  he  could  expound  the  dark  pas- 
sages of  the  Bible  with  ingenuity  and  wit, 
140 


RAV'S  MINE 


and  unravel  the  intricate  problems  of  the 
Talmud  with  hair-splitting  dialectics  dis- 
played in  questions  and  counter-questions. 
A  clever  remark  by  one  of  his  pupils  was 
rewarded  with  a  pinch  of  the  cheek. 

But  when  the  young  people  were  listening 
most  thoughtfully  to  the  words  of  the 
scholar,  their  intelligent  eyes  fixed  upon  him, 
their  mouths  agape,  Mrs.  Siiss  would  come 
stumping  and  clattering  into  the  room,  and 
all  the  good  spirits  of  the  Talmud  would  go 
flying  from  the  room,  as  if  driven  up  a 
Jacob's-ladder  by  an  evil  demon. 

"  Siissleb,  what  is  it  ?  "  asked  the  rabbi. 

She  poured  out  her  heart  like  the  contents 
of  a  bucket,  and  bickering  and  nagging 
shoved  their  supper  at  the  students,  after 
having  taken  the  precaution  to  spread  the 
bread  with  rancid  goose-fat.  She  scolded 
at  the  dear  times ;  at  the  close-fisted  congre- 
gation, which  from  a  sheer  desire  to  follow 
the  new  fashions  had  nothing  left  for  the 
Rebbetzin;  at  the  insulting  remarks  passed 

141 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Upon  her,  and  at  much  else.  She  went  on 
and  on  unwearied,  until  a  clear  voice  from 
without  cried: 

"Mother,  mother!" 

Then  she  withdrew  like  a  passing  storm 
that  rumbles  farther  and  farther  in  the  dis- 
tance. And  gradually  the  blue  sky  smiled 
serenely  again  upon  the  old  Rav  and  his 
pupils,  and  the  angels  of  the  Talmud  cau- 
tiously descended  the  ladder. 

The  clear  voice  .belonged  to  his  daughter 
Mine,  a  lovely  flower  beside  her  thistly 
mother.  She  must  have  passed  her  twenty- 
fifth  year,  though  she  looked  no  older  than 
twenty.  A  small  head  crowned  the  slender, 
refined  figure.  Two  long,  black  love-locks 
contrasted  with  the  mother-of-pearl  tint  of 
her  face.  The  gray  eyes  had  not  inherited 
the  mother's  stinging  look.  They  were 
veiled  by  a  soft  melancholy,  a  mild  resigna- 
tion. The  thin  lips  preferably  remained 
closed,  because  the  teeth  had  suffered  from 
much  sickness.  For  this  reason,  when  she 
142 


RAV'S  MINE 


Spoke,  Mine  tried  to  hide  them,  and  would 
have  been  considered  affected  by  anyone 
who  did  not  know  her  well.  Her  uncle 
Ezekiel  Flesh  could  not  bear  her  manner  of 
speech. 

"  Don't  make  snouts,  Minkel,''  he  said. 
"Do  me  the  favor,  and  don't  speak  High 
German." 

"Shall  I  speak  Yiddish?" 

"  Why  not  ?  "  growled  Ezekiel,  and  rolled 
his  wax  pellet  agitatedly  between  his  fingers. 

Mine  had  other  accomplishments  beside 
the  ability  to  speak  High  German.  She  sang 
to  the  accompaniment  of  the  guitar,  which 
she  carried  by  a  blue  ribbon  slung  over  her 
shoulder.  Her  repertoire  was :  "  I  send 
Thee  to  Alexis,"  "In  Myrtill's  Ruined 
Hut,"  and,  if  in  particularly  good  voice, 
Tancred's  "  After  So  Many  Sufferings." 
The  sound  of  the  music  reached  the  old 
Rav's  pupils,  who  were  not  afraid  of  these 
tones;  they  did  not  chase  the  angels  of  the 
Talmud  from  the  room.  At  worst,  the 
143 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

young  men  were  a  bit  distracted  from  their 
studies  by  listening  to  them. 

When  Mine  entered  the  room,  the  lights 
seemed  to  burn  brighter.  She  had  a  good 
word  for  everyone.  Outside  in  the  vesti- 
bule hung  the  students'  coats,  into  which  she 
secretly  stuck  nuts  and  apples,  on  Purim 
even  a  Boles,  which  she  had  nipped  off 
the  dough  of  the  butter-cakes  behind  her 
mother's  back. 

The  old  Rav  liked  to  hear  her  sing. 
Sometimes  when  his  divine  patience  was 
stretched  to  its  utmost  limit  by  a  concert  of 
Xantippe's,  he  would  say  to  Mine,  pinching 
her  cheek  with  the  back  of  his  index  and 
middle  fmgers: 

"  Minkel,  sing  *  After  So  Many  Suffer- 
ings '  for  me." 

One  of  the  students  was  called  "  hand- 
some Henoch."  He  was  an  orphan  who  had 
come  from  the  province  to  the  capital  to 
"  learn,"  and  he  took  his  noon  meals  turn 
and  turn  about  with  the  benevolent  fami- 

144 


RAV'S  MINE 


lies  of  the  community.  He  was  conspicuous 
for  his  fine  slender  figure,  the  glow  of  his 
dark  eyes,  and  his  mass  of  blue-black  curls. 
Pearly  teeth  gleamed  from  between  beauti- 
fully curved  lips.  The  down  of  a  youth  of 
seventeen  shaded  his  upper  lip,  and  laid  a 
bluish  bloom  on  his  cheeks,  like  the  purple 
powder  of  a  fresh  plum.  When,  inspired  by 
a  theme  propounded  by  the  rabbi,  he  would 
begin  to  speak,  and  with  increasing  enthu- 
siasm would  lift  his  arms  and  raise  his  dark 
rapt  eyes,  he  resembled  the  boy  Jesus  preach- 
ing in  the  Temple,  as  he  is  portrayed  by  the 
Italian  master  on  the  picture  hanging  in  our 
public  gallery. 

Henoch  was  the  favorite  of  the  old  Rav. 
Even  Mrs.  Suss  found  less  to  scold  at  in 
him  than  in  the  others. 

"  Go  'way  with  you,  you  little  wheedler/* 
she  would  say  to  him,  giving  him  a  rap  on 
the  shoulder,  when  he  had  coaxed  "  my  dear 
Mrs.  Rebbetzin  "  into  granting  something 
he  wanted. 

146 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

But  he  was  most  favored  by  Miss  Mine. 
He  fetched  her  notes  and  guitar  strings,  ex- 
changed novels  for  her  at  the  circulating 
library — which  he  skimmed  through  at  night 
before  delivering  them  to  her — and  was 
even  permitted  to  call  for  her  at  the  thea- 
tre, to  which  she  had  a  subscription  ticket, 
entitling  her  to  a  place  in  a  second-class  box 
seating  seven  others.  As  he  escorted  her 
home  across  the  large  square,  she  told  him 
about  the  piece,  and  shed  additional  tears 
over  Romeo's  misfortune  and  Jaromir's 
great  monologue.  And  if  the  play  had  been 
very,  very  fine,  Mine  at  its  next  presenta- 
tion would  in  some  secret  way  manage  to 
put  Henoch  in  possession  of  four  groschen, 
so  that  he  could  enjoy  it  at  first  hand  in  the 
pit. 

This  was  not  the  full  extent  of  her  bene- 
factions. It  was  her  custom  to  collect  the 
cast-off  clothing  of  the  sons  of  the  well-to- 
do,  and  distribute  it  as  fairly  as  possible 
among  her  father's  students.  As  it  chanced, 
146 


RAVS  MINE 


the  finest  suits  always  fitted  handsome 
Henoch. 

One  mild  winter  evening  he  called  for 
Mine  at  the  theatre.  The  stars  gleamed  with 
rare  effulgence  in  the  dark  blue  of  the  noc- 
turnal heavens.  The  large  square  seemed 
to  be  roofed  with  a  gold-embroidered 
canopy.  In  the  middle  of  the  square  Mine 
remained  standing  at  the  statue  of  the  Land- 
grave— Henoch  must  teach  her  the  constel- 
lations. 

"  How  much  you  know,  Henoch ! "  she 
said. 

Henoch  sighed. 

"  Ah,  Miss  Mine,  if  you  were  only  aware 
how  troubled  I  am  because  I  know  nothing. 
Of  what  use  is  it  that  I  study  whole  nights 
through,  if  I  study  the  text  books  of  the 
gymnasium  without  vSystem  or  guidance? 
My  heart  is  parched  with  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge, and  the  source  of  refreshment  will  be 
eternally  denied  the  poor  man.  Only  the 
sons   of   the   rich   can   attend   the   higher 

147 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

schools,  and  be  led  by  enlightened  men 
through  the  mazes  of  doubt  to  the  road  to 
truth.  A  world  of  wisdom  and  knowledge 
IS  open  to  them,  while  we  poor  people  must 
look  on  from  afar,  like  Moses  outside  the 
Promised  Land." 

"  But  you  want  to  be  a  rabbi,  don't  you?  " 
responded  Mine,  struck  by  the  violence  of 
his  regrets.  "  And  you  are  learning  that 
with  us ! " 

They  had  begun  to  walk  again,  and  now 
Henoch  stood  still. 

"God  forbid,"  he  said,  **  that  I  should 
fail  to  recognize  what  I  owe  to  your  good 
and  learned  father!  He's  a  great  Biblical 
scholar,  standing  almost  alone  in  our  times. 
But  do  our  times  need  this  cult  of  the  dead 
letter?  We  have  travelled  with  giant  strides 
over  the  Talmud  ant-hills  in  which,  up  to 
this  time,  our  thoughts  have  been  condemned 
to  burrow.  A  new,  holy  spirit  is  flaming  up 
in  those  congregations  which  are  freeing  the 
exalted  thought  of  Judaism  from  its  century- 

148 


RAVS  MINE 


worn  forms.  Preachers  of  the  purest  faith 
in  God,  equipped  with  a  knowledge  of  gen- 
eral history, abreast  of  all  advances  in  human 
thought,  deliver  sermons  in  German,  in  a 
language  intelligible  to  all,  upon  the  purified 
doctrines  of  our  belief,  the  fountain-head  of 
all  Divine  knowledge!  In  Hamburg,  in 
Berlin,  in  Breslau  —  " 

"  For  God's  sake !  "  Mine  interrupted 
him,  letting  go  of  his  arm  in  terror.  "  Those 
are  the  reformed  Temples.  The  believing 
Jews  have  put  the  ban  upon  them !  Henoch, 
what  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

Henoch  smiled. 

"  They  are  the  boldest,"  he  said.  "  Per- 
haps they  have  ventured  too  far.  But  look 
at  Frankfort ! "  he  continued,  grasping  her 
arm.  "  There,  in  that  orthodox  community, 
a  man  is  minister  who  unites  Talmudic  cul- 
ture with  general  knowledge,  and  every 
party  in  the  community  honors  and  admires 
him.  Perhaps  you  don't  know.  Miss  Mine, 
that  there  is  a  Yeshive  as  well  as  a  Univer- 
149 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

sity  at  Wiirzburg,  and  that  those  who  study- 
there  enjoy  the  privilege  of  developing  their 
intellects  on  all  sides.  O  how  I've  longed 
to  be  there!  Then,  too,  they  are  building 
castles  in  the  air — they  want  to  erect  a  new 
and  glorious  Temple  in  that  beloved  city, 
so  that  the  scattered  members  of  the  com- 
munity can  group  themselves  about  the 
preacher  of  the  pure  word  of  God.  But  I 
am  wearying  you  with  my  fancies.  Does  it 
avail  the  worm  in  the  dust  to  envy  the  bird 
in  the  air?  " 

He  became  silent.  Mine  was  profoundly 
stirred.  She  had  forgotten  all  about  the 
play.  Henoch's  fancies  occupied  her  mind 
to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else.  But 
what  could  she  do  to  lend  wings  to  the  ambi- 
tious striver?  At  the  door  of  the  house  she 
pressed  his  hand  warmly. 

"  You  won't  tell  a  soul,  will  you,  of  my 
foolish  desires  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  foolish,  and  I  thank  you 
for  having  confided  them  to  me." 
150 


RAV'S  MINE 


The  whole  night  Mine  had  to  think  of 
those  fooHsh  desires.  The  picture  of  the 
handsome  youth,  who  so  ardently  stretched' 
his  arms  toward  his  ideal,  followed  her  even 
in  her  dreams.  She  saw  him  as  rabbi  of  the 
congregation  preaching  in  a  new  fantastic- 
ally decorated  Temple,  and  a  woman's  face 
greeted  him  proudly  and  happily  from  the 
first  row  in  the  women's  gallery.  She  awoke 
from  her  dream  with  a  start.  But  the 
thought  in  her  heart  would  not  rest. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  she  asked  herself,  "  that 
a  man  with  such  ideas  in  a  Jewish  commu- 
nity like  ours  could —  " 

A  few  days  later  her  uncle  Ezekiel  Flesh 
came  into  the  kitchen  from  the  Rav's  room, 
where  he  had  delivered  himself  of  a  fresh 
denunciation.  Mrs.  Siiss  was  clattering 
about  in  the  kitchen,  and  she  threw  a  disap- 
proving look  at  him  when  Mine  offered  him 
a  Schnappschen, 

"  Why  not?  "  he  said  by  way  of  accept- 
ance. 

161 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Uncle,"  said  Mine,  after  a  few  remarks 
on  indifferent  matters,  "  is  it  true  that  they 
have  such  a  wonderful  Rav  in  Frankfort?  " 

The  old  man  set  the  glass  on  the  table 
with  a  bang,  and  began  to  knead  his  pellet 
furiously. 

"Wonderful?"  he  cried.  "Wonderful 
that  such  an  old  Kille  as  Frankfort  should 
listen  to  the  new-fashioned  Shmues.  Some 
tramp  who  darshens  in  High  German!  A 
shame  and  a  disgrace  on  a  Jewish  Kille! 
Just  let  them  keep  him,  why  not?  But  I'll 
tell  you  this — may  your  father  live  another 
hundred  years — so  long  as  I'm  Shammes,  no 
High  German  will  come  into  my  congrega- 
tion. There  are  some,  I  know,  who  want  a 
new-fashioned  fellow.  Our  rich  bug  Joel 
Reinach  would  be  enough  of  a  sinner  in 
Israel  to  introduce  one!  And  the  Lord, 
blessed  be  He,  has  punished  him  for  it,  too 
— has  taken  four  of  his  seven  from  him. 
Why  not?" 

At  these  words,  for  the  special  edification 

152 


RAVS  MINE 


of  the  Lord,  he  vehemently  twisted  his  pellet 
to  a  thread,  and  stumped  out  of  the  door 
without  saying  "  Good-by." 

Mine  heard  in  horror  that  the  misfortune 
of  that  excellent  man,  Joel  Reinach,  was 
considered  a  visitation  from  Grod  for  his 
enlightened  convictions. 

"  These  are  the  pious,"  she  exclaimed 
with  a  shudder. 

Now  she  fully  understood  the  painful 
longing  of  her  young  friend.  But  the  fanat- 
ical denunciations  of  her  uncle  had  left  her 
with  a  ray  of  light  in  her  soul.  Joel  Rei- 
nach, the  richest  and  most  esteemed  man  in 
the  community,  shared  Henoch's  views,  as 
she  had  just  heard.  Possibly  he  could — but 
foolish  thought!  He  was  inaccessible  for 
her,  as  for  everybody ! 

Joel  Reinach  was  the  head  of  the  firm 
Reinach  Brothers,  which  kept  a  silk  shop  in 
a  large  stone  structure  in  Enten  Street.  His 
brothers  and  nephews  carried  on  the  busi- 
ness, because  sickness  and  misfortune  had 

153 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

weakened  him,  and  for  years  he  had  not 
left  his  room.  A  pecuHar  air  of  melancholy 
solemnity  pervaded  even  the  shop.  The 
silk  goods  lay  in  closed  mahogany  cases, 
and  the  show-window  displayed  nothing 
beside  the  name  of  the  firm  in  gold  letters 
on  the  huge  glass  pane.  Inside,  the  sons  of 
the  house  and  their  partners  gave  the  buyer 
the  ceremonious  reception  of  a  guest  in  the 
antechamber  of  a  prince.  No  loud  words 
were  exchanged;  the  prices  were  as  sacred 
as  religious  dogmas,  and  the  intercourse 
between  buyer  and  seller  was  as  civil  as  at 
a  charity  bazar  where  nobility  stands  behind 
the  counter.  But  the  excellence  of  their 
wares  and  the  just  prices  put  upon  them  had 
raised  Reinach  Brothers  to  one  of  the  largest 
and  most  aristocratic  firms  of  the  capital. 

Joel  Reinach  had  no  sons,  but  seven 
lovely  daughters,  who  were  soon  left  moth- 
erless. A  gruesome  fate  seemed  to  grudge 
the  world  the  possession  of  such  rare  blos- 
soms of  maidenhood.  When  they  reached 
154 


RAVS  MINE 


their  eighteenth  year,  the  roses  on  their 
cheeks  paled,  their  full  round  figures  with- 
ered away,  the  canker  in  the  bud  gnawed 
silently  but  steadily,  until  the  flower  dropped 
away  petal  by  petal.  Four  of  the  seven  had 
already  met  their  untimely  death,  mourned 
by  all  who  had  known  them  or  had  merely 
admired  their  ideal  beauty  from  afar.  The 
remaining  three  had  not  yet  reached  the 
fateful  age. 

The  father  was  torn  by  grief  as  cruel 
as  Job's.  But  he  bore  it  heroically.  With 
each  new  blow  the  outcry  of  his  soul  grew 
fainter,  until  it  subsided  into  mute  resigna- 
tion to  the  will  of  God.  Bound  to  his  mar- 
tyr's cross  he  awaited  the  fresh  arrows  of 
the  angel  of  death,  his  tearless  glance  search- 
ing the  Inscrutable,  without  reproaches, 
without  complaints.  Scarcely  sixty  years 
old,  he  looked  like  a  broken-down  octogen- 
arian. His  tall  figure  bent,  his  waxen  face 
framed  in  thin  white  hair,  the  half-extin- 
guished eyes  covered  by  a  green  shade,  he 
155 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

sat  in  his  room  hung  with  green,  almost  in- 
accessible to  the  outer  world,  and  span  the 
thread  of  his  thoughts  about  him  like  a 
chrysalis. 

Nevertheless,  within  this  hermetically 
sealed  abode  pulsed  a  wonderfully  beautiful 
life.  Every  evening  the  girls  took  turns  in 
reading  to  their  father,  or  they  played  the 
piano  and  the  organ  in  the  adjoining  room, 
or  sang  songs  and  several-part  airs  in  their 
clear  seraph  voices.  None  of  the  creations 
of  art  or  the  triumphs  of  science  remained 
unknown  to  him.  He  sought  information 
on  all  the  larger  aspects  as  well  as  the  details 
of  social  conditions.  Despite  his  secluded 
life,  he  was  acquainted  with  the  whole 
community,  and  all-knowing  and  all-boun- 
teous, he  invisibly  poured  benefactions  from 
his  rich  lap  upon  all  the  needy  and 
distressed. 

This  was  the  man  upon  whom  Ezekiel 
Flesh  called  down  the  punishment  of  God, 
because  in  his  judgment  Joel  Reinach  would 
156 


RAVS  MINE 


be  the  first  to  agitate  bringing  an  enlightened 
minister  to  the  community. 

Mine  looked  up  to  this  one  possible  helper 
of  her  protege  as  to  the  Holy  of  Holies,  to  be 
honored  from  afar  but  never  entered.  She 
had  never  seen  Joel  Reinach,  and  she  pic- 
tured him  to  herself  with  apprehensive 
timidity. 

But  before  long  she  was  to  see  and  come 
to  know  him.  The  occasion  was  brought 
about  by  one  of  the  frequent  quarrels  be- 
tween Mrs.  Siiss  and  the  servant.  The  girl 
had  not  swept  the  stairs  to  her  satisfaction, 
and  Mrs.  Siiss  gave  vent  to  her  spleen  by 
wresting  the  broom  from  her  hands  and 
manipulating  it  herself.  In  doing  so  she 
stumbled  over  the  handle,  and  fell  down  the 
stone  steps  of  the  winding  staircase.  She 
screamed.  Everybody  in  the  house  came 
running  to  the  rescue.  Mine  rushed  to 
the  scene  with  her  guitar  hanging  to  her 
shoulder.  The  old  Rav  even  deserted  his 
folios. 

167 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Siissleb,"  he  cried,  with  serio-comic 
double  entendre,  "  don't  break  in  two." 

But  the  expected  retort,  "  You  need  two 
of  me,"  did  not  come,  for  the  silence  of 
death  had  laid  itself  upon  her  lips. 

Mine  fainted  with  her  guitar  still  bound 
to  her  by  the  blue  ribbon. 

Respect  for  their  old  rabbi  brought  the 
whole  community  to  the  funeral.  Ezekiel 
Flesh  lamented  his  sister  in  torn  clothes, 
though  he  had  never  been  able  to  abide  her. 
The  patient  old  Rav  quietly  and  sincerely 
mourned  his  teasing  companion,  become  as 
necessary  to  him  as  the  habit  of  a  lifetime. 

Though  she  had  a  nervous  headache,  and 
wore  a  cloth  over  her  forehead,  he  let  Mine 
receive  the  numerous  callers — ^all  except 
one! 

The  day  after  the  interment  Joel  Reinach 
had  himself  carried  to  the  rabbi  in  a  sedan- 
chair  to  offer  condolences  to  the  worthy 
teacher  of  the  community.  This  was  an 
event  in  the  city.  Mine  trembled  when  Joel 
158 


RAVS  MINE 


Reinach  expressed  the  desire  to  see  her.  She 
hastily  slipped  the  bandage  from  her  head 
when  he  entered  the  room  where  she  was 
"  sitting  Shive  *'  on  a  low  stool.  But  when 
he  stepped  up  to  her  and  laid  his  pale,  spare 
hand  on  her  head,  the  ache  left  her  as  if 
banished  by  some  magnetic  force,  and  a 
thought  flashed  through  her  breast  warming 
the  very  depths  of  her  heart.  All  timidity 
passed  away,  when  she  looked  at  his  mild, 
benevolent  face.  The  fatherly  tone  awoke 
endless  confidence  in  her.  When  he  left,  she 
involuntarily  drew  his  hand  to  her  lips,  and 
a  resolve  fixed  itself  firmly  in  her  soul. 

She  smiled  almost  joyously  when  Henoch 
came  in.  Like  a  son  of  the  family,  he  was 
constantly  at  the  side  of  the  mourners. 

"  After  all,  Henoch,"  she  said,  "  there  is 
no  misfortune  which  does  not  hold  within 
itself  the  germ  of  some  good  fortune." 

Henoch  did  not  understand  her  mysteri- 
ous words.     Nevertheless  he  pressed  his 
friend's  hands  warmly. 
169 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

A  week  later  Mine,  clad  in  deep  mourn- 
ing, went  to  the  house  in  Enten  Street.  Mr. 
Reinach's  daughters  received  her  amiably. 
The  three  rosy  children  contrasted  marked- 
ly with  the  woman  beyond  her  first  youth, 
whose  face  was  all  the  more  sunken  and 
emaciated  from  the  emotions  of  the  past 
few  days. 

They  asked  her  sympathetically  what  she 
wanted. 

"  I  should  like  to  speak  to  Mr.  Reinach 
himself,"  she  answered  in  embarrassment, 
twisting  a  little  parcel  wrapped  in  tissue 
paper. 

The  daughters  were  silent.  After  a  short 
pause  Bertha,  the  youngest  and  prettiest, 
scarcely  fifteen  years  old,  gave  her  a  friend- 
ly nod,  and  slipped  into  the  adjoining  room, 
A  moment  later  she  returned,  her  eyes  beam- 
ing with  pleasure. 

"  Father  asks  you  to  step  in." 

Mine's  heart  beat  rapidly  as  she  passed 
through  the  wadded  folding-doors  into  the 
160 


RAVS  MINE 


twilight  of  the  chamber.  The  bent  old  man 
in  a  close-fitting  gray  coat  rose  from  his 
easy-chair,  before  which  a  book  lay  open  on 
a  reading-desk,  and  with  a  wave  toward  a 
chair  asked  her  to  be  seated. 

"  What  blessings  do  you  bring  me,  Miss 
Mine?  How  can  I  be  of  service  to  you?" 
he  asked  in  whispered  tones. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  answered, 
somewhat  shyly,  "  for  taking  refuge  with 
you.  Among  my  mother's  things,  I  found 
some  old  Brabant  lace,  and  I  would  like  to 
ask  you  whether  you  couldn't — whether  you 
couldn't  turn  it  into  money  for  me  ?  " 

She  was  about  to  unwrap  the  parcel,  but 
was  stopped  by  the  old  man's  thin  hand  laid 
upon  hers. 

"  I'm  very  grateful  to  you, "  he  said, 
stroking  her  hand,  "  and  though  lace  is  not 
one  of  the  wares  our  firm  deals  in,  I  should 
like — "  he  noticed  that  Mine's  lips  were 
quivering  painfully,  and  went  on  more  rap- 
idly— "  I  should  like  to  ask  you  whether  you 
161 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

or  your  revered  father  are  in  embarrass- 
ment—" 

Mine  reddened- 

"Not  that,"  she  stammered,  "Thank 
God,  it's  not  for  us — that  I  wanted  to — " 

"To  do  some  charity?"  Mr.  Reinach 
helped  her  out,  again  taking  her  hand  in  his. 

"  That's  it !  "  she  cried  "  I  wanted—" 
She  came  to  a  stop. 

"Have  you  no  confidence  in  me?"  Mr. 
Reinach  asked,  smiHng. 

**  Yes,  yes !  "  she  cried,  and  tears  glistened 
in  her  eyes,  which  looked  fully  and  frankly 
into  his.  "  Among  oiu"  students  there's  one, 
hand —  young  Henoch,  an  especially  indus- 
trious and  gifted  pupil  of  n^  father.  His 
whole  heart  is  bound  up  in  the  desire  to 
study  in  Wtirzbiu-g.  He  says  he  can  become 
very  learned  there.  He  told  me  his  ideas — 
glorious  plans  for  one  day  uniting  our  com- 
munity in  a  new,  enlightened,  and  uplifting 
service."  Reinach's  hand  trembled  in  hers. 
"But  he  is  poor.    He  must  eat  his  meals 

162 


RAVS  MINE 


turn  and  turn  about  at  \'arious  tables,  and 
I  thought, — that  perhaps, — by  selling  this 
lace—" 

She  stopped  and  looked  at  the  parcel 
awkwardly.  Reinach  had  removed  the 
green  shade  from  his  eyes,  and  r^rarded  her 
with  a  loN-ing  look. 

**  You  are  quite  right,  my  child,"  he  said 
at  last,  stroking  her  hand  softly.  "  The  old 
Brabant  lace  is  worth  a  good  deal!  You 
need  not  take  the  trouble  to  open  the  parcel. 
I  don't  have  to  see  the  lace  to  know  its 
value.  I  am  not  estimating  it  too  highly  if 
for  the  present  I  give  you  three  hundred 
reichsthaler  yearly  for  jrour  prc>t%e." 

"  God  bless  jrou !  "  cried  Mine,  and  wanted 
to  draw  his  hand  to  her  lips.  But  the  lively 
gesture,  the  glad  outcn%  seemed  to  give  the 
old  man  actual  phj-sical  pain. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  thank  mc  for,"  he 

said,    gently   repellant      "You   alone   can 

finally  determine  the  price  of  your  lace, 

and  when  your  protege  once  has  reached  his 

163 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

goal,  and  becomes  a  pious  and  enlightened 
teacher  in  Israel  — " 

"  Then  the  whole  community  will  bless 
you ! ''  cried  Mine,  tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 

Joel  Reinach  leaned  back  in  his  chair  as 
if  exhausted,  and  with  a  gentle  wave  of  the 
hand  bade  Mine  leave  him. 

Bertha  was  waiting  in  the  next  room. 
Mine,  overpowered  by  her  feelings,  em- 
braced her  and  kissed  her  on  her  marble 
brow. 

"  Your  father  is  an  angel ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. "  May  God  preserve  you  for 
him!" 

Anyone  seeing  her  speed  through  the 
streets  would  have  supposed  some  calamity 
had  occurred.  Nobody,  not  even  handsome 
Henoch,  suspected  the  good  fortune  that 
lent  wings  to  her  feet. 

When  she  told  him  her  good  news,  he 
raised  his  great  glowing  eyes,  moist  with 
tears,  to  Heaven,  then  looked  at  the  girl  in- 
toxicated with  joy,  and  every  consideration 
164 


RAV'S  MINE 


of  respectful  reserve  dropped  from  him. 
He  covered  her  hands  with  hot  kisses,  and 
when  she  withdrew  them,  he  laid  his  curly 
head  on  her  breast,  and  stammered  discon- 
nected words  of  thanks. 

"  You  are  my  good  angel,  my  dear,  dear 

benefactress,  whom  I  shall  always — always 
>> 

It  was  the  most  blessed  moment  Mine  had 
ever  lived  through.  She  was  to  experience 
only  one  other  like  it. 

With  beating  heart  Henoch  informed  the 
old  master  of  his  plan.  First  the  old  Rav 
shook  his  head,  then  he  nodded  with  a  mel- 
ancholy smile.  The  one  gesture  was  for 
the  past,  the  other  for  the  future. 

Later,  when  Ezekiel  began  to  curse  the 
renegade.  Mine's  father  said: 

"  Never  mind,  he's  right.  Ha-Kol  he- 
Ito,  which  means  *  Everything  has  its  sea- 
son,' but  also  it  means  '  Every  dog  has  his 
day.'  " 

Henoch  wanted  to  thank  Mr.  Reinach  in 
165 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

person,  but  the  old  man  denied  himself  on 
the  plea  of  not  feeling  well.  He  had  already 
given  an  order  for  the  payment  of  the  sum 
at  his  office. 

Until  the  autumn  Henoch  worked  day 
and  night  to  complete  his  knowledge  of  the 
classical  languages,  and  he  passed  the  matric- 
ulation examinations  brilliantly. 

The  hour  for  leaving  came.  At  her 
father's  bidding  Mine  made  anArba-Kanfes, 
and  the  old  Rav  hid  a  gold  ducat  in  each  of 
the  four  corner  pockets.  She  did  not  show 
the  Rav  the  pocket-book  on  which  "  Souve- 
nir "  was  embroidered  in  gold  beads. 

The  two  of  them  accompanied  Henoch 
to  the  post-chaise.  The  postillion  blew  his 
horn,  off  rattled  the  stage  over  the  Konigs- 
platz,  and  Henoch  waved  his  handkerchief 
from  the  window. 

"  Yevorechecho — God  bless  thee !  "  the 
old  man  cried  after  him  in  a  loud  voice. 

Mine  said  the  same,  though  not  with  her 
lips,  only  with  her  heart. 
166 


RAV'S  MINE 


With  Henoch  all  glory  departed  from  the 
house  of  the  Rav.  The  students  came  and 
went  as  before.  Mine  spread  their  bread 
with  fresh  butter  instead  of  rancid  goose^ 
fat,  filled  their  coat  pockets  with  nuts,  and 
collected  linen  and  clothes  for  them.  But  it 
was  not  the  same.  Now  the  cook  called  for 
her  at  the  theatre,  and  the  sight  of  the  Great 
Bear  made  her  sigh,  and  Orion  drew  tears 
from  her  eyes.  When  she  sang,  "  I  send 
Thee  to  Alexis,'*  she  substituted  another 
name  for  Alexis,  and  sent  the  rosy  messen- 
ger to  Wiirzburg. 

Thus  over  a  year  passed  by.  The  angel 
of  death  knocked  anew  at  the  portals  of  Joel 
Reinach's  house.  Then  he  came  to  the  quiet 
room  of  the  old  Rav. 

One  morning  when  Mine  carried  the  cof- 
fee to  her  father's  bedside,  the  old  man  lay 
there  as  though  asleep,  a  gentle  smile  on  his 
lips,  his  hands  folded  over  his  old  Siddurl. 
Unperceived,  sleep  had  delivered  him  into 
the  arms  of  his  brother  death. 
167 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

He  was  buried  next  to  Mrs.  Siiss.  For 
the  first  time  the  two  rested  together  in 
peace. 

When  the  news  reached  Henoch,  he 
wanted  to  hurry  to  his  friend  and  show  the 
last  honors  to  his  beloved  master.  But  Mine 
begged  him  not  to  interrupt  his  studies. 

"  I  know,"  she  wrote,  "  that  you  are  with 
us  in  spirit  during  this  painful  time.  We  do 
not  want  to  see  each  other  in  tears." 

Was  it  delicacy  or  was  it  vanity  that  dic- 
tated these  words?  Poor,  dear  Mine,  you 
would  not  confess  it  to  yourself. 

It  must  be  said  for  the  honor  of  the  com- 
munity that  the  occasion  brought  out  their 
gratitude  for  their  old  minister.  Every- 
body, young  and  old,  followed  his  bier,  a 
seven-days'  mourning  service  was  instituted 
in  all  the  houses  of  prayer,  and  his  daughter 
was  given  a  pension  of  four  hundred  reichs- 
thaler,  "  to  secure  her  comfort  until  her 
marriage,  or,  if  she  should  remain  unmar^ 
ried,  until  her  death." 
168 


RAV'S  MINE 


It  was  her  uncle  Ezekiel  who,  gentle  and 
considerate  as  usual,  acquainted  her  with 
the  decision. 

"  I  hope,  Minkelleb,"  he  said,  "  you  won't 
be  a  burden  on  the  Kille  for  long.  Because 
nobody  who  wants  to  be  Rav  after  your 
father,  peace  be  with  him,  will  get  my  vote, 
unless  he  includes  you  in  the  bargain.  Why 
not?" 

These  amiable  words  of  her  sole  rela- 
tive were  a  knife-thrust  through  Mine's 
heart.  She  kept  silence,  for  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  make  herself  understood  by  this  man. 

She  thanked  the  community  in  writing, 
and  quietly  went  to  work  to  reduce  her 
scale  of  living  in  proportion  to  her  limited 
income.  The  next  day  she  received  a  care- 
fully sealed  parcel.  Inside  she  found  her 
lace  laid  on  a  slip  of  paper  curiously  printed. 
She  had  never  seen  a  piece  of  paper  like  it 
before.  A  note  in  delicate  handwriting  was 
attached : 

"  Permit  me,  my  dear  Miss  Mine,  to  re- 
169 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

turn  your  deposit  to  you  with  thanks.     I 
hope  the  lace  will  some  day  trim  your  bridal 

S°^"-  Joel  Reinach." 

The  curiously  printed  slip  was  an  Aus- 
trian bond  for  five  thousand  gulden. 

Her  bridal  gown !  The  rich  present  slip- 
ped from  her  mind.  She  repeated  the 
words,  and  tears  ran  down  her  thin  old 
maid's  cheeks.  Was  it  the  yearning  that 
fills  every  unmarried  woman's  heart,  es- 
pecially in  advancing  years ;  the  yearning  to 
love  and  to  be  loved;  the  yearning  to  unite 
a  solitary,  orphaned  soul  with  another  rela- 
ted soul;  the  yearning  not  to  fall  to  the 
ground  like  a  loose  link  in  the  endless  chain 
of  humanity;  the  yearning  for  the  joys  and 
the  pangs  of  motherhood,  the  bliss  of  press- 
ing a  child  to  her  heart  with  a  mother's  hap- 
piness and  a  mother's  solicitude?  Did  her 
mind  for  a  moment  recur  to  her  uncle's 
practical  plan,  or  was  it  a  glow  of  ideality 
that  turned  her  toward  him  who  was  re- 
170 


RAV'S  MINE 


moved  from  her  not  only  by  space  but  also 
by  youth  and  beauty?  Her  bridal  gown! 
Why  did  hot  tears  course  down  her  cheeks  ? 
Were  they  tears  of  hope,  or  tears  of  resigna- 
tion? 

The  painful  events  that  had  shattered  her 
sensitive  nerves  made  her  look  even  older 
than  her  thirty  years.  She  still  preserved 
her  slender  figure  and  her  aristocratic  car- 
riage, her  dark  hair  still  curled  in  long  locks 
over  the  thin  cheeks;  but  an  almost  imper- 
ceptible hoar-frost  lay  on  her  brow  and 
temples. 

Nevertheless  it  seemed  that  Ezekiel 
Flesh's  prophecy  would  come  true.  It  had 
probably  been  bruited  about  that  the  hand 
of  Rav's  Mine  had  to  be  won  by  the  candi- 
date for  the  rabbinate.  Possibly,  too,  her 
relation  with  the  jealous  Shammes  was  a 
contributory  fact,  or  the  quiet  protection  of 
Joel  Reinach,  of  which  everybody  knew.  It 
might  also  have  entered  into  the  candidate's 
calculations  that  the  community,  in  order  to 
171 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

save  itself  the  paying  of  an  annuity  to 
the  orphan,  must  prefer  the  suitor  to  her 
hand.  However  that  might  be,  all  the  un- 
married rabbis  who  applied  for  the  position 
— married  men  were  summarily  rejected  by 
Ezekiel  Flesh — did  not  delay  to  call  upon 
Rav's  Mine,  to  ask  her  protection  and  put 
themselves  at  her  disposal  with  more  or  less 
veiled  insinuations.  Whoever  did  not  of 
himself  remain  away  after  the  first  visit,  re- 
ceived no  uncertain  repulse  at  his  second 
attempt. 

In  vain  Miners  women  friends  endeavored 
to  give  her  "  good  advice,"  in  vain  her  uncle 
cast  at  her  his  furious  "  Why  not?  "  Mine 
forbade  further  visits. 

"  I  would  rather  give  up  the  annuity," 
she  sobbed  to  her  uncle. 

Joel  Reinach  and  the  younger  directors  of 
the  community  were  just  as  insistent  in  pro- 
testing against  the  machinations  of  the 
fanatical  Shammes.  Finally  it  was  decided 
to  leave  the  position  unoccupied  for  the 
172 


RAV'S  MINE 


present.  As  occasion  demanded,  a  rabbi  was 
summoned  from  the  neighboring  town. 

After  this  Mine  was  left  undisturbed. 
She  dedicated  her  time  to  the  Sisterhood,  a 
society  for  educating  poor  Jewish  girls. 
Besides  spending  several  hours  every  day 
in  the  Sisterhood  house,  she  received  the 
most  intelligent  pupils  in  her  own  home,  and 
taught  them  languages,  singing,  and  art- 
embroidery.  With  her  help  they  made  all 
sorts  of  articles,  on  which  bead  flowers  and 
birds  and  fruits  of  wool  flaunted  their  gay 
colors.  At  Purim  these  articles  were  raffled, 
and  the  proceeds  devoted  to  the  purposes  of 
the  Sisterhood.  The  poor  children  wor- 
shipped Mine. 

And  so  her  life  passed,  like  a  mild,  monot- 
onous gray  day,  illumined  by  only  one  ray 
of  sunlight.  When  the  postman  called  out 
"  from  Wiirzburg,"  her  pale  cheeks  turned 
roseate,  and  she  tore  the  envelope  open  with 
trembling  fingers. 

The  last  letter  had  wound  up  with  : 

173 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  You  warn  me,  my  only  friend,  in  view 
of  my  future  and  the  aims  I  am  pursuing, 
not  to  estrange  myself  from  the  belief  of 
our  fathers  by  following  false  paths  in  the 
garden  of  modern  philosophy.  Ah,  believe 
me,  dearest  friend,  I  really  had  no  faith  until 
I  made  these  studies.  We  underestimate 
what  is  our  own  if  we  do  not  learn  what 
belongs  to  others.  We  fancy  that  that  which 
is  closed  against  us  hides  the  key  to  the  rid- 
dle of  the  universe.  But  the  deeper  we  pen- 
etrate, the  farther  the  goal  recedes  before 
us.  The  boldest  advances  of  modern  philos- 
ophy, the  acutest  hypotheses  of  science,  ulti- 
mately lead  to  one  point — where  knowledge 
ends  and  belief  begins.  The  human  spirit, 
because  it  has  its  human  limitations,  cannot 
conceive  the  infinite,  only  what  is  limited. 
Man  ever  and  again  removes  the  golden  ker- 
nel of  the  Divine  from  its  worn-out  shell. 
As  often,  however,  as  the  kernel  is  delivered 
over  to  humanity  as  its  common  possession, 
the  shell  forms  around  it  once  more,  and 
174 


RAV'S  MINE 


grows  thicker  and  thicker — religions  turn 
into  churches.  All  you  need  is  to  pierce 
these  various  shells  with  the  help  of  thor- 
ough studies,  in  order  finally  to  discover  the 
same  golden  kernel,  which,  like  the  Holy 
of  Holies  in  the  Second  Temple,  is  the  In- 
visible, the  Inconceivable,  before  which  the 
human  spirit  must  bow  in  faith,  whether  He 
created  the  first  pro-creating  cell,  or  the 
kingdoms  of  nature  and  the  systems  of  the 
universe,  and  established  the  eternal  laws 
that  govern  them.  Why  should  I  disown 
that  shell  which  by  its  very  rustiness  seems 
more  sacred  than  the  other  shells  ?  He  who 
arrives  at  belief  by  way  of  knowledge  not 
only  becomes  stronger  in  his  belief,  but  also 
more  tolerant  than  the  narrow-minded  man. 
He  will  not  aim  to  destroy  the  form,  only  to 
put  a  soul  into  it.  And  I  am  absolutely  cer- 
tain that  I  can  succeed  in  doing  this  in  any 
congregation,  even  our  own.  I  shall  find 
progressive  spirits  there  to  understand  me, 
and  time  and  gentle  consideration  will  grad- 
176 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ually  bring  the  others,  too,  to  a  more  enlight- 
ened understanding  and  to  nobler  forms. 

"  I  held  my  first  trial  sermon  in  Hanau. 
It  pleased  the  congregation,  though  to  my- 
self it  seemed  a  bit  obscure  and  sophomoric. 
On  the  road  from  my  heart  to  my  lips  much 
escaped  me.  I  do  not  yet  understand  how 
to  collect  all  I  have  and  hold  it  fast.  But 
I  have  one  whole  year  still  for  study  and 
for  putting  into  practice  what  I  know.  The 
latter  will  incidentally  enable  me  to  earn  so 
much  that  I  shall  no  longer  need  the  assist- 
ance of  my  benefactor.  First  I  want  to  be 
done  with  all  work  on  myself — I  want  to  be 
a  finished  product — then  I  hope  you  will 
see  me  a  candidate  for  your  congregation. 

"  In  the  meantime  rejoice  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  having  made  one  man  happy." 

Mine  read  the  letter  over  and  over  again 
with  tears  of  happiness.  The  longed-for 
meeting  had  been  put  off  another  year. 
But  she  wrote  nothing  to  Henoch  to  per- 
suade him  to  come.     She  regarded  it  as  a 

176 


RAV'S  MINE 


decree  of  Providence  that  the  congregation 
must  wait  for  the  chosen  one. 

Since  the  death  of  the  old  Rav  a  great 
transformation  was  perceptible  in  the  com- 
munity. Reverence  for  the  aged  master 
had  restrained  the  younger  element.  Now, 
in  rare  accord,  they  felt  and  expressed  the 
desire  to  unite  and  rebuild  the  disintegrated 
service.  Ezekiel  Flesh,  it  is  true,  put  the 
ban  upon  everybody  who  spoke  of  building 
a  Temple. 

Fate,  however,  dealt  one  of  her  ironic 
blows  to  the  zealous  fanatic.  His  only  son 
was  baptized,  in  order  to  marry  the  daugh- 
ter of  a  Christian  minister  in  Stadthagen. 
When  he  who  had  cursed  every  child  that 
ran  through  the  streets  bareheaded,  learned 
of  the  apostasy  of  his  only  son,  the  wax 
pellet  dropped  from  his  restless  fingers  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life.  He  wanted  to  "  sit 
Shive"  for  the  lost  one.  Instead,  he 
screamed  out  and  sank  to  the  floor  next  to 
his  plank  bed.  Pain  and  wrath  had  broken 
177 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

his  heart.  With  a  curse  upon  his  son  he 
died  the  death  of  the  righteous. 

Now  the  younger  leaders  of  the  commu- 
nity got  together  undisturbed.  They  wanted 
to  build  a  suitable  House  of  God,  and  send 
a  call  to  some  enlightened  minister.  They 
found  a  staunch  supporter  in  Joel  Reinach. 
All  the  rays  of  fine  thought  emanated  from 
his  little  green  room.  The  broken-down  old 
man,  who  was  now  left  only  one  of  his 
seven  daughters,  beautiful  Bertha,  applied 
himself  with  youthful  ardor  to  the  building 
of  the  new  Temple.  He  seemed  a  second 
Ezra.  He  subscribed  the  largest  sums,  and 
the  others  followed  with  smaller  subscrip- 
tions, ready  to  offer  any  sacrifice.  The 
architect  was  a  son  of  the  community  named 
Rosengarten.  Soon,  upon  a  fine  garden  site 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  city  rose  a  mighty 
Romanesque  structure,  and  within  less  than 
a  year  the  gilded  tablets  of  the  law  were 
gleaming  on  its  frontal. 

And  at  the  same  time  a  ray  of  light  pene- 
178 


RAV'S  MINE 


trated  the  dusk  of  Joel  Reinach's  home.  A 
young  physician,  who  had  acquired  renown 
in  other  parts,  came  to  settle  in  the  capital, 
and  he  heard  of  Reinach's  tragic  fate.  He 
gave  Bertha  a  thorough  examination,  and 
found  her  organs  unimpaired.  The  hot- 
house existence  the  other  daughters  had  led 
seemed  to  him  the  cause  of  their  early  death. 
He  declared  that  if  Bertha  was  to  be  kept 
alive,  she  must  have  light  and  air  and  exer- 
cise; she  must  swim,  and  ride  horseback, 
and  wander  through  the  charming  woods 
that  encircle  our  city.  All  considerations  of 
form,  all  old  customs  were  set  aside,  and 
people  looked  in  amazement  at  the  girl, 
shot  up  into  slender  womanhood,  galloping 
across  fields  and  through  woods.  Clad  in 
her  dark  riding-habit,  seated  on  her  milk- 
white  steed,  her  chestnut  curls  streaming  in 
the  wind,  a  blue  veil  flying  about  her  head 
like  a  cloud,  she  seemed  a  fairy  stepped  out 
of  an  old  fable. 

The  synagogue   was  completed.     Inside 

179 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  columned  hall,  over  the  entrance  door, 
rose  the  choir  with  fine  over-archings.  The 
youths  and  boys  of  the  community  studied 
old  choral  melodies  for  the  Psalms  of  David. 
The  scrolls  of  the  Torah  and  the  gold  and 
silver  ornaments  were  brought  from  all  the 
Houses  of  Prayer  and  placed  in  the  ark, 
surrounded  by  small  varicolored  columns. 
The  women  of  the  community  who  were 
skilled  with  the  needle  embroidered  curtains 
and  altar  cloths.  Mine  cut  up  her  mother's 
brocaded  bridal  gown  and  made  two  cover- 
ings for  Torah  scrolls. 

The  only  thing  lacking  was  the  preacher. 
Of  the  many  candidates  not  one  had  proved 
suitable. 

It  was  in  spring,  between  Pesach  and 
Shabuos,  when  the  news  spread  that  Doctor 
Henoch  would  hold  his  trial  sermon. 

Mine    had    received    the    announcement 

from  Henoch  himself,  and  she  carried  the 

information  breathlessly  to  Joel   Reinach. 

When  she  reached  his  door,  she  stood  there 

180 


RAVS  MINE 


dazzled.  She  was  met  by  the  beautiful  Am- 
azon whose  steed  was  pawing  the  ground 
before  the  entrance. 

Mine  told  her  news  gleefully,  but  Bertha 
scarcely  seemed  to  hear  it. 

"  My  father  will  be  pleased  to  see  you," 
she  said  with  a  charming  smile,  which  re- 
vealed the  gleam  of  her  pearly  teeth.  Re- 
moving her  long  gauntlets,  she  pressed 
Mine's  thin  hand  in  her  own,  so  white 
and  plump.  Mine  looked  at  the  dazzling 
vision  with  admiration  slightly  tinged  with 
melancholy.  Then  she  mounted  the  steps  to 
Joel  Reinach's  room.  It  was  unchanged, 
but  the  figure  of  the  old  man  had  grown  even 
more  bent..  Mild  joy  illuminated  his  face 
at  Mine's  message. 

"  Your  protege  is  heartily  welcome,  my 
dear  Miss  Mine.  God  grant  that  his  noble 
wishes  and  yours  may  be  fulfilled.  They 
are  the  same  as  mine." 

One  week  only,  and  she  would  see  him 
again  I  Day  and  night  she  quivered  with  the 
181 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

thought.  He  alone  occupied  her  mind,  for 
him  alone  she  prayed.  She  did  not  tell  even 
herself  the  other  hopes  and  desires  that  lay 
buried  in  the  deepest  chamber  of  her  heart. 
She  was  scarcely  aware  of  them. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  by  mere  chance, 
however,  that  she  wore  her  black  silk  Sab- 
bath dress  every  day  of  the  week,  and  that 
she  could  not  use  any  of  the  chemisettes 
she  possessed,  but  had  to  have  a  new  one 
made  by  Sprinzchen  Sennet,  the  best  dress- 
maker in  the  community.  She  even  allowed 
herself  to  be  persuaded  for  the  first  time 
since  her  parents'  death  to  pin  a  colored 
velvet  bow  on. 

He  might  come  any  day  in  the  week.  The 
first  few  days  it  was  in  vain  that  she  never 
left  the  house,  and  counted  the  hours  and 
minutes,  jumping  up  from  her  embroidery 
frame  with  a  beating  heart  if  she  heard  a 
knock  at  the  door.  On  the  Wednesday  of 
this  week  fell  the  New  Moon,  when  it  was 
her  custom  to  go  to  the  Sisterhood  house  and 
182 


RAV'S  MINE 


say  half-Hallel  with  the  girls.  This  time 
she  had  two  of  her  favorites  come  instead 
to  her  own  house,  lest  she  be  away  when 
Henoch  arrive.  She  stood  at  the  window 
with  the  girls,  and  prayed.  A  couple  of 
hyacinths  sent  their  perfume  into  the  spring 
sunshine.  Devotion  filled  her  soul,  and  for 
a  few  moments  drove  away  every  other 
thought.  She  uttered  aloud  the  words  of 
the  Psalms  in  Mendelssohn's  beautiful  trans- 
lation, the  children  followed,  moving  their 
lips  mutely : 

"  He  maketh  the  barren  woman  to  keep 
house,  and  to  be  a  joyful  mother  of  chil- 
dren." 

A  soft  voice  behind  her  echoed, 

"  Hallelujah." 

Henoch  had  knocked  on  the  door  gently, 
and  not  receiving  a  response  had  opened  it 
just  as  gently.  He  saw  her  standing  there 
at  prayer  between  the  two  children,  with  her 
back  toward  him.  It  was  the  tall,  aristo- 
cratic figure  he  had  known.  The  dark  locks 
183 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

fell  to  her  shoulders  just  as  long  ago.  Her 
voice  vibrated  nervously  and  rang  with  a 
tone  that  came  from  the  heart.  A  sense  of 
reverence  overcame  him,  a  feeling  of  inti- 
macy and  homelikeness.  Tears  of  genuine 
emotion  rose  to  his  eyes.  For  a  few  mo- 
ments he  regarded  the  group  in  silence,  and 
when  they  said  "  Hallelujah,"  the  response 
escaped  his  breast  involuntarily. 

Mine  turned,  struck  by  the  voice.  The 
prayer-book  fell  from  her  hand. 

"  Henoch !  "  she  stammered,  almost  in- 
audibly. 

He  stood  before  her,  the  beloved  friend 
for  whom  she  had  longed  so  ardently,  hand- 
somer than  ever,  in  the  full  glow  of  ripe 
manhood.  The  blue-black  curls  brushed 
back  from  his  forehead  left  the  high  noble 
brow  bare;  a  dark  beard  covered  cheek  and 
chin,  and  encircled  the  full  lips. 

What  Henoch  saw  was  a  face  emaciated 
and  pale,  trembling  lips  parted  in  surprise, 
aging  features  distorted  the  more  by  the 
184 


RAV'S  MINE 


Start  of  joy.    His  grateful  fancy  had  ideal- 
ized this  face,  and  given  it  lasting  youth. 

As  though  he  had  put  out  his  hand  for  a 
flower  and  pressed  a  caterpillar,  Henoch 
drew  back,  the  words  dying  on  his  lips. 

Mine  sensed  the  thing  that  made  him 
tremble.  A  flash  went  through  her  heart — 
a  flash  that  illumines,  but  also  destroys. 

"  My  dear  friend !  "  said  Henoch,  his 
voice  shaking,  and  stretched  his  hands  to- 
ward her.  His  eyes  filled  with  tears  of 
sorrow. 

"  I  have  gone  through  much  since  we  last 
saw  each  other,"  she  rejoined,  pulling  her- 
self together  with  an  effort.  "  But  don't 
let's  speak  of  the  past.  I  thank  God  that  I 
see  you  again  and  under  such  favorable 
auspices." 

Yes,  good  soul,  she  honestly  meant  what 
she  said.  One  second  sufficed  for  her  to 
overcome  the  pain  of  her  shattered  hopes. 
Then  she  thought  no  more  of  herself,  only 
of  him,  the  loved  one. 
185 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Go,  children,"  she  said,  smiHng  at  them 
pleasantly,  "  go  home,  and  we  shall  say  the 
rest  of  the  Hallel  to-morrow." 

The  children  kissed  her,  and  held  out 
their  hands  to  the  stranger. 

"  You  have  remained  the  same  in  your 
goodness  and  piety,"  remarked  Henoch, 
when  the  children  were  gone. 

Henoch  reproached  himself — had  he  not 
endeavored  to  value  the  golden  kernel  no 
matter  in  what  shell  it  was  enveloped  ?  Yet 
for  one  moment  he  could  forget  the  beauti- 
ful soul  of  his  friend !  The  finest  man  may 
stumble  over  his  own  noble  systems.  He- 
noch tried  to  rid  himself  of  the  first  impres- 
sion. He  caught  Mine's  hand,  and  inquired 
with  insistent  vivacity  about  everything  con- 
cerning her,  but  she  evaded  him. 

"  Let's  speak  of  more  important  things," 
she  said,  and  drew  him  to  the  bay  window. 

Probably  for  the  first  time  she  was  dis- 
concerted by  being  alone  with  him,  and  her 
oppressed  heart  longed  for  fresh  air.  She 
186 


RAVS  MINE 


opened  the  window,  and  offered  him  the 
chair  in  the  bay  next  to  her  work-table.  The 
perfume  of  the  hyacinths  streamed  into  the 
room. 

She  gave  him  an  account  of  all  that  had 
happened  in  the  community — the  new  spirit 
at  work,  the  preparation  of  the  soil  for  his 
plans,  especially  by  Joel  Reinach,  and  the 
building  of  the  magnificent  House  of  God, 
which  was  waiting  for  the  man — Henoch 
himself — who  was  destined  to  give  it  fresh 
life  and  a  fresh  soul.  She  also  told  him  the 
names  of  the  younger  leaders  of  the  com- 
munity in  whom  he  would  find  support. 
She  had  thought  everything  out  so  carefully, 
she  put  it  all  to  him  with  such  scrupulous 
concern  that,  overcome  by  emotion,  he 
seized  her  hand — and  she  held  his  hand  as 
quietly  as  a  mother  holds  her  son*s.  The 
more  composedly  she  disclosed  to  him  how 
she  had  studied  only  his  success,  the  more 
strongly  he  felt  his  obligations  to  this  noble 
girl.  The  first  impression  was  forgotten, 
187 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  golden  kernel  shone  so  pure  that  a  feel- 
ing of  most  grateful  friendship  warmed  his 
whole  heart. 

/*  Isn't  everything  that  I  am  and  will  be 
your  work,  my  dear  friend  ?  '*  he  began  in 
an  excited  voice. 

At  that  moment  a  sound  reached  his  ear 
which  was  very  unusual  in  the  quiet  city. 
It  was  the  clatter  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the 
paving  stones.  Henoch  involuntarily  bent 
his  head  to  look  from  the  window,  and  a 
fairy  flew  by  on  a  white  steed,  her  blue  veil 
fluttering  behind  her.  As  she  passed,  she 
sent  a  greeting  up  to  the  window  of  her 
friend. 

"Who  is — ?"  stammered  Henoch. 

"  Bertha  Reinach,"  his  friend  replied 
quietl}^. 

Mine  told  him  of  the  lovely  girl  who  had 
happily  passed  her  crucial  eighteenth  year 
by  dint  of  taking  all  sorts  of  exercise  in  the 
fresh  air,  and  how  she  comforted  her  father 
and  cared  for  him. 

188 


RAV'S  MINE 


"Thank  God,"  she  said,  "that  in  His 
mercy  He  has  spared  the  noble  old  man  this 
last  child.  She  is  a  rare  gem.  You  must 
go  to  Mr.  Reinach  at  once,  this  very  day." 

Mine  fairly  insisted  on  his  leaving  her  im- 
mediately. He  dreamily  promised  to  obey 
her,  and  she  accompanied  him  to  the  door, 
where  she  pressed  his  hand  mutely. 

When  she  returned  to  the  room,  her 
glance  involuntarily  fell  upon  her  reflection 
in  the  mirror,  which  hung  between  the  two 
windows.  She  nodded  her  head  several 
times  as  if  to  greet  the  picture  and  pass 
judgment  upon  it  as  he  had  done.  Then  she 
raised  the  prayer-book  that  had  fallen  from 
her  hand,  pressed  a  kiss  upon  it  to  make 
amends  for  the  insult — this,  according  to 
an  old  custom — and  quietly  continued  to 
say  her  Hallel.  At  the  words,  "  Return 
unto  thy  rest,  O  my  soul,"  she  pressed  the 
book  to  her  breast,  then  calmly  recited  the 
prayer  to  the  end. 

Though  it  was  May,  the  windows  were 
189 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

shut  and  the  green  hangings  drawn  in  Joel 
Reinach's  room.  But  a  ray  of  sunlight  pene- 
trated the  dark  and  fell  across  the  room  like 
a  breath  of  spring,  when  the  young  divine 
enthusiastically  set  forth  his  soaring  plans 
to  the  withered  old  man.  Joel  basked  with 
fatherly  delight  in  the  youth's  enlightened 
ideas.  A  faint  color  suffused  his  pale 
cheeks.  Either  joy  found  its  way  along 
the  unaccustomed  path  from  his  heart  to 
his  face,  or  it  reflected  the  light  radiated  by 
Henoch^s  young  features. 

"  That's  all  extremely  fine  and  great," 
said  Reinach,  and  caressingly  laid  his  tremb- 
ling mummy  hand  on  Henoch's  shoulder. 
"  But  aren't  you  afraid  the  community  is 
too  contracted  a  field  for  your  Alexander- 
like ideas?  Isn't  provincialism  the  very 
worst  enemy  of  great  conceptions?  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  rejoined  Henoch,  with 
joyous  self-confidence.  "  I  am  a  child  of 
this  community,  only  an  adopted  child,  per- 
haps, but  I  owe  my  education  to  its  fatherly 

190 


RAVS  MINE 


protection.  Just  because  I  love  it,  I  am  sure 
to  gain  its  love.  I  don't  want  to  be  an 
aggressive  reformer.  I  want  first  to  win 
the  hearts  of  all  by  sparing  and  considering 
their  sensibilities.  Then  the  cultivation  of 
the  spirit  will  adjust  itself.  Why,  up  to  this 
time  the  community  in  its  disintegration  has 
been  like  the  scattered  remnants  of  Judah 
after  the  destruction  of  the  First  Temple, 
when  they  took  refuge  in  various  places,  and 
each  worshipped  God  after  his  own  fashion. 
But  you,  Mr.  Reinach,  like  Ezra,  built  them 
a  new  Temple  for  the  use  of  all,  and  I  deem 
him  happy  who  is  called  to  be  the  Nehemiah 
to  work  and  teach  at  your  side !  " 

The  old  man  smiled,  and  shook  his  finger 
threateningly  at  the  young  enthusiast. 

**  You  know,"  he  said,  "  those  two,  Ezra 
and  Nehemiah,  cast  Judaism  in  the  mold 
now  honored  in  place  of  its  contents  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  Henoch  replied  calmly,  "  and 
I  honor  the  mold,  because  it  has  preserved 
the  substance  for  thousands  of  years." 
191 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  And  you  mean  to  adapt  yourself  to  the 
mold?" 

"  I  do.'' 

"  Against  your  inner  convictions  ?  " 

"  It  is  my  conviction  that  the  minister  of 
a  congregation  is  its  microcosm.  He  may 
permit  individuals  to  transgress  forms,  but 
he  himself  must  not.  I  am  not  sacrificing 
my  convictions,  only  my  comfort,  and  I 
do  so  gladly.  I  would  not  destroy  the  relics 
that  childish  narrow-mindedness  considers 
holy,  but  I  would  endeavor  to  remove  this 
childish  narrow-mindedness  from  those  who 
are  committed  to  my  care.  The  time  will 
come  when  the  golden  bud  of  pure  belief 
will  burst  into  blossom  from  the  dosed 
sheath.  I  will  not  live  to  see  that  time,  but 
I  mean  to  travel  toward  it,  and  I  will  lead 
my  people  along  with  me." 

This  allusion  to  the  evanescence  of  earthly 

things  sent  a  quiver  of  pain  across  Reinach's 

face.     He  cast  a  melancholy  glance  at  the 

blooming  youth,  and  a  foreboding  passed 

192 


RAV'S  MINE 


through  his  sorl.  He  leaned  back  in  his 
arm-chair  exhausted,  and  put  out  his  hand 
as  if  to  say  "  Good-by."  Henoch  under- 
stood and  arose.  He  had  never  been  per- 
mitted to  address  a  word  of  thanks  to  his 
benefactor,  and  now  in  the  twiHght  of  the 
chamber  he  bent  over,  under  the  pretext  of 
groping  for  his  hat,  and  pressed  a  soft  kiss 
upon  the  withered  hand.  Reinach  drew  it 
back  in  surprise. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
Bertha  stepped  in  carrying  a  silver  candela- 
brum, its  lights  shaded  on  one  side  by  green 
screens.  The  light  thus  thrown  back  fell 
on  the  dazzling  face,  and  surrounded  it  with 
a  halo.  In  the  simple  white  dress,  closed  at 
the  throat,  her  loosened  brown  hair  falling 
over  it  in  abundant  locks,  the  beautiful  Ama- 
zon seemed  transformed  into  a  heavenly 
apparition.  Henoch  stared  at  her  as  at  a 
vision.  His  senses  strayed  and  grew  con- 
fused. He  could  not  make  up  his  mind 
either  to  stay  or  to  take  leave. 
193 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  My  daughter  Bertha/'  said  Reinach, 
presenting  her. 

"  We  have  seen  each  other  to-day  al- 
ready/' said  the  girl,  smiling. 

Henoch  found  no  word  in  response.  As 
Bertha  set  the  candelabrum  down,  the  light 
chanced  to  fall  on  the  old  man's  pale  face. 
The  sight  frightened  her.  Forgetting  the 
stranger's  presence,  she  ran  to  the  footstool, 
and  caressingly  asked  her  father  if  he  felt 
sick. 

"  No,"  he  said. 

She  kneeled  before  him,  and  slung  both 
arms  about  his  knees.  He  folded  his  hands 
over  her  mass  of  curls.  Thus  a  sweet- 
smelling  lily  blooms  at  the  foot  of  some 
leafless  tree-trunk  rent  by  lightning. 

The  young  minister  regarded  her  mutely. 
Then  he  bowed  and  left.  When  he  stepped 
into  the  adjoining  room,  where  a  bright 
light  burned,  he  held  his  hand  before  his 
eyes  to  prevent  the  glare  from  dispelling 
the  dreamlike  picture  in  his  soul. 
194 


RAVS  MINE 


The  door  behind  him  opened,  and  Bertha 
stood  before  him. 

"  My  father  sends  his  best  wishes  for  the 
success  of  your  trial  sermon.  And  I  join 
him  in  his  wishes  most  heartily." 

Her  young  voice  was  melodious.  Red- 
dening, she  stretched  out  her  hand  to  him. 
Henoch  did  not  know  what  he  was  doing 
when  involuntarily  he  drew  it  to  his  lips. 

He  had  promised  Mine  to  give  her  an 
account  of  his  interview  with  Reinach.  In- 
stead he  rushed  out  into  the  spring  night, 
down  to  the  park,  where  the  lilacs  and  jas- 
mines perfumed  the  air,  then  farther  out 
through  the  lonely  chestnut  avenue  to  the 
Fulda.  Here  at  last  his  stormy  emotions 
subsided,  and  the  thought  of  his  great  duty 
arose  in  his  soul.  He  pondered  on  the  text 
for  his  trial  sermon. 

"  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of 
men  and  of  angels,  and  have  not  love,  I  am 
become  as  sounding  brass,  or  a  tinkling 
cymbal." 

195 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

But  he  remembered  the  words  of  the 
Apostle  were  not  suitable,  and  chose  another 
text. 

The  decisive  Sabbath  came.  The  Temple 
was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity.  After  the 
scrolls  of  the  Torah  had  been  enveloped 
again  in  the  brocade  wrappings  of  the  Reb- 
betzin's  bridal  gown,  and  the  choir  had  sung 
a  Hallelujah  chorus,  the  young  preacher 
stepped  into  the  raised  pulpit  on  the  left  of 
the  Ark.  A  long  black  gown  flowed  about 
the  slender  figure,  and  a  black  cap  like  those 
worn  by  the  popes  of  the  Greek  Church 
rested  on  the  still  blacker  curls.  Excitement 
had  driven  all  the  color  from  his  face,  and 
when  he  raised  his  large  dark  eyes  soul  fully 
toward  Heaven,  he  no  longer  resembled  the 
boy  Jesus  preaching  in  the  Temple,  but  the 
transfigured  prophet  delivering  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount  to  his  disciples. 

After  a  short  prayer,  which  was  begun 
in  a  shaking  voice,  but  which,  waxing  in 
fervency,  rose  to  Heaven  as  on  wings,  the 
196 


RAV'S  MINE 


preacher  paused  to  collect  his  thoughts  be- 
fore passing  over  to  the  text.  He  had 
chosen  the  words  of  Malachi :  "  Have  we 
not  all  one  father?  Hath  not  one  God  cre- 
ated us?  Why  do  we  deal  treacherously 
every  man  against  his  brother,  by  profaning 
the  covenant  of  our  fathers  ?" 

Developing  the  thought,  he  showed  how 
the  family  peaceably  grouped  about  the 
father;  the  community  grouped  about  the 
common  sanctuary;  the  nation  grouped 
about  the  common  ruler;  the  races  of  the 
earth  looking  to  one  Ruler  of  the  world ;  the 
earth  itself  and  the  endless  systems  of  the 
stars  harmoniously  revolving  about  the  com- 
mon Creator — how  all  these  are  divided  and 
held  together  by  the  unfathomable  force  of 
His  love.  With  the  whole  of  humanity  the 
covenant  had  been  sealed,  and  the  Creator 
had  guaranteed  sacred,  eternal  rights  to  all 
His  creatures.  He  who  unlovingly  perse- 
cutes his  neighbor,  desecrates  the  covenant 
on  which  the  world  is  based.  The  Messianic 
197 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

days  foretold  by  the  prophets  bore  as  their 
sign  the  promise,  that  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth  would  recognize  that  He  is  One,  and 
His  name  is  One. 

The  sermon  was  marked  by  the  absence 
of  all  false  pathos,  all  sanctimoniousness. 
The  tones  came  from  the  heart  and  went  to 
the  heart.  When  the  young  preacher  lauded 
mildness,  tolerance,  and  love  as  the  means 
for  reaching  this  highest  goal,  when  he 
showed  that  human  love  is  the  offspring  of 
the  Divine  conception  of  creation,  when 
his  words  turned  to  tears,  his  tears  to  flames 
of  the  Holy  Spirit,  a  breath  of  enthusiasm 
pervaded  the  building,  a  nameless  impulse 
to  love  opened  the  sluice-gates  of  all  hearts, 
each  man  would  gladly  have  embraced  his 
neighbor,  and  still  more  gladly  the  speaker 
in  the  pulpit.  Like  alder  bushes  the  people 
nodded  and  hummed  with  subdued  applause. 
The  women's  gallery,  where  handkerchiefs 
waved  to  and  fro,  resembled  a  ship  with 
sails  spread. 

198 


RAVS  MINE 


One  woman's  face  lit  with  joy,  but  pale 
and  tear-bedewed,  leaned  over  the  railing. 
Another,  fresh  and  blooming,  hid  its  blushes 
in  the  pages  of  the  prayer-book. 

With  a  short  blessing  the  sermon  ended, 
and  a  many-voiced  Amen  resounded  from 
the  choir.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  service 
the  whole  congregation  surrounded  the 
happy  man  to  congratulate  him. 

On  the  stairs  leading  from  the  gallery  Ber- 
tha and  Mine  met.  Now  it  was  Bertha  who 
threw  her  arms  about  her  friend  and  pressed 
a  burning  kiss  on  her  colorless  cheeks. 

The  one  hour  decided  Henoch's  fate.  The 
congregation  passed  a  unanimous  vote  in 
his  favor.  He  became  chief  rabbi  in  the 
city  in  which  several  years  before  he  had 
taken  his  meals  turn  and  turn  about. 

First  of  all  he  went  to  his  friend  Mine, 
who  received  him  with  greater  joy  than  he 
himself  felt.  He  had  attained  his  goal  not 
for  her  but  through  her.  That  sufficed  for 
the  woman's  noble  soul. 
199 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

And  now  began  a  happy  and  ceaseless  ac- 
tivity. Henoch  gave  equal  care  to  the  reor- 
ganization of  the  service  and  to  the  instruc- 
tion in  the  school.  The  whole  congregation 
enthusiastically  rallied  to  the  support  of  the 
new  minister.  His  enlightened  ideas  fired 
the  younger  members,  and  his  Talmudic 
knowledge  as  well  as  his  observance  of  the 
ritual  precepts  impressed  the  elders.  He 
conferred  almost  daily  with  Joel  Reinach, 
who  seemed  to  be  actually  rejuvenated  by 
contact  with  this  fresh  personality. 

Bertha  took  part  in  all  that  went  on.  Her 
beautiful  eyes  with  a  look  of  rapture  in 
them  rested  thoughtfully  on  the  lips  of  the 
ardent  speaker.  She  no  longer  needed  to 
gallop  about  in  the  open  air.  She  seemed 
happier  and  healthier  when  she  sat  next  to 
her  father  and  his  friend,  who  had  tacitly 
become  a  member  of  the  family,  in  fact,  its 
vivifying  element. 

And  Henoch  himself,  how  he  longed  for 
those  hours  of  reunion ! 
200 


RAVS  MINE 


The  old  man  smiled  upon  this  mute  cove- 
nant of  two  souls.  It  seemed  to  him  a  gift 
of  Providence  that  the  girl  who  had  been 
spared  him  by  God  should  incline  toward 
the  man  who  had  dedicated  himself  to  God, 
a  man,  too,  for  whom  he  felt  fatherly  love. 
But  he  hesitated  to  touch  the  bud  of  this 
attachment  with  too  rash  a  hand.  He 
wanted  it  to  unfold  itself  gradually.  Yet  he 
feared  its  development — not  that  he  held 
his  only  child  too  precious  for  the  poor  and 
homeless  man.  But  what  if  Henoch  main- 
tained silence  from  fear  of  the  tender,  per- 
ishable blossom,  not  from  modest  repres- 
sion? What  if  he  were  already  bound  else- 
where? Here  the  picture  arose  in  the  old 
man's  memory  of  a  girl  pleading  touchingly 
in  behalf  of  her  protege.  Had  he  the  right 
to  permit  the  feeling  of  his  unsuspecting 
child  to  ripen  into  passion?  Should  he 
by  force  unseal  Henoch's  mute  lips? 
These  were  the  doubts  that  tortured  the  old 
man. 

201 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

And  the  clear  mirror  of  Bertha's  soul  was 
also  dimmed.  When  the  hour  approached 
for  Henoch  to  come,  her  heart  began  to  beat 
violently,  and  if  he  failed  to  pay  his  visit, 
anxious  thoughts  buzzed  through  her  brain. 
But  if  he  put  in  appearance,  all  the  blood 
rushed  from  her  heart  to  her  temples,  and 
she  hastened  to  hide  her  glowing  face  in 
the  twilight  of  her  father's  room.  Then 
she  listened  to  Henoch's  words,  calm  and 
satisfied — she  felt  no  desire  for  anything 
more  on  earth.  But  when  he  left,  what 
disquietude!  Her  soul,  which  had  always 
revolved  about  her  father  alone,  had  lost 
its  measure  and  balance.  However,  she  had 
not  yet  found  a  name  for  this  agony  of 
suspense. 

The  emotions  that  tore  Henoch's  heart 
were  the  stormiest  of  all.  The  first  impres- 
sion made  upon  him  by  the  dazzling  Ama- 
zon had  stupefied  him.  Her  beauty  fell 
upon  him  like  a  stroke  of  lightning,  fairly 
scorching  him.  The  sight  of  her,  again,  at 
202 


RAVS  MINE 


her  household  duties,  caring  for  her  father, 
glorified  and  transfigured  her  as  the  moon- 
light lends  soul  to  a  statue.  When  the  ten- 
der flower,  so  miraculously  preserved,  began 
to  incline  toward  him  and  intoxicate  his 
senses  with  its  perfume,  when  to  see  the  girl 
became  a  sweet  habit,  a  veritable  necessity, 
he  suddenly  started  back  in  fright  from  the 
dream  of  happiness — a  happiness  that 
seemed  unattainable  to  him.  Might  he  raise 
his  glance  and  stretch  out  his  hand  to  grasp 
her?  Was  it  not  his  duty  to  avoid  the 
gleaming  pitfall?  He  tried  to — in  vain! 
He  would  pass  the  door  of  Reinach's  house 
without  entering,  and  wander  through  the 
streets  only  to  come  back  again  like  a  moth 
to  the  flame.  Turning  his  glance  from  her 
with  difficulty,  he  would  endeavor  to  steep 
his  whole  soul  in  earnest  conversations 
with  her  father,  though  he  felt  how  his  eyes 
and  his  soul  were  drawn  to  her  with  magic 
chains.  Often  he  felt  the  impulse  to  con- 
fide all  his  feelings  to  his  friend  Mine,  yet 
208 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

in  her  presence  he  locked  the  secret  only  the 
more  tightly  within  his  bosom. 

Thus  three  noble  souls  tortured  and  tor- 
mented themselves,  three  souls  felt  the  same 
and  desired  the  same,  yet  sought  in  vain  for 
the  word  of  deliverance.  Will  no  good 
genius  come  to  lay  it  on  their  lips? 

It  was  in  the  late  summer  when  the  days 
were  growing  perceptibly  shorter.  Gossa- 
mer threads  floated  in  the  air.  Mine,  whose 
one  diversion  was  the  theatre,  was  go- 
ing across  to  the  playhouse  when  Henoch 
met  her.    She  saw  his  excitement  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  was  just  coming  to  you,  my  dear 
friend,"  he  said. 

"  Let  us  go  back.  The  times  are  past 
when  the  theatre  fascinated  me.  I  go  to 
the  play  only  from  habit.  Let  us  rather 
return  home  and  talk." 

"  No,"  said  Henoch,  making  a  mighty 
effort.  "  No,  let  us  dream  ourselves  back 
into  those  times  again.  Permit  me  to  escort 
you  as  I  did  then." 

204 


RAVS  MINE 


They  walked  across  the  large  square  with- 
out speaking.  Here  he  had  once  taught  her 
the  constellations! 

He  did  not  notice  that  Mine  steered  him 
past  the  theatre,  and  turned  into  the  avenue, 
already  deserted,  which  led  to  the  beautiful 
Park.  On  the  one  side  were  houses  facing 
the  Park ;  the  other  side  was  lined  with  shade 
trees.  It  was  solitary  and  still,  the  silence 
broken  only  by  the  birds  chirping  their 
evening  melodies. 

Mine  seized  Henoch's  hand. 

"  You  spoke  of  old  times,"  she  said. 
"  Then  you  confided  all  your  thoughts  to 
me.  Why  are  you  more  reserved  now? 
Has  your  good  fortune  made  you  miserly?  " 

"  My  good  fortune !  The  good  fortune 
I  owe  only  to  you !  " 

"  No.  Providence  has  granted  you 
another  and  a  higher  piece  of  fortune.  All 
you  lack  is  the  courage  to  seize  it.  Don't 
speak,'*  Mine  continued  smiling,  "  I  know 
it.    You  love  Bertha,  and  Bertha  loves  you. 

206 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

She  herself  told  me.  She  told  me  by  a  kiss 
on  my  cheek  after  your  trial  sermon  had 
moved  and  uplifted  all  hearts  in  the  Temple. 
Even  earlier  I  had  suspected  this  unhoped 
happiness,  and  praised  God  who  had  re- 
served it  for  you.  Why  does  it  worry 
you?" 

Henoch,  powerless  to  utter  a  word, 
pressed  her  hand  mutely  to  his  throbbing 
breast. 

"  Do  you  doubt  the  feelings  of  her  noble 
father  ?  "  Mine  went  on.  "  Or  do  you  doubt 
your  own  worthiness?  Or  do  you  tremble 
before  the  awful  fate  that  overtook  Ber- 
tha's sisters?  She  is  strong  now,  made 
proof  against  all  harm  by  the  wonderful 
strength  of  love.  And  even  if  she  were  lent 
you  for  only  a  brief  span,  that  brief  span 
would  be  worth  a  whole  lifetime." 

"  You  say  this  to  me !  "  Henoch  cried, 
completely  overcome,  and  tears  of  admira- 
tion rose  to  his  eyes. 

"  Mustn*t  I  ? "  she  replied,  smiling. 
206 


RAVS  MINE 


Mustn't  I,  since  you  have  no  mother  to  tell 
you  to  take  comfort  and  pluck  up  courage? 
God  created  you  two  for  each  other.  At 
the  right  time  He  will  send  you  His  messen- 
ger to  lead  you  together.  And  now,  good- 
by!" 

She  quickly  tore  herself  away  to  hide  her 
emotion,  and  hurried  off  to  the  theatre.  But 
at  the  corner  of  the  street  she  stood  still 
and  looked  back  to  see  if  Henoch  was  fol- 
lowing her.  Still  overpowered  by  his  feel- 
ings, he  was  looking  up  to  Heaven  as  if  to 
beseech  the  messenger  to  descend,  the  mes- 
senger she  had  promised  him.  Her  moist 
gray  eyes  lighted  with  a  rapid  decision.  She 
sped  across  the  square  to  the  house  of  Joel 
Reinach. 

The  manner  with  which  she  asked  to  see 
Mr.  Reinach  was  very  different  from  her 
manner  that  first  time — not  shy  and  tremb- 
ling, but  joyously  resolute. 

Bertha  greeted  her  and  expressed  con- 
cern for  the  young  man,  who  had  not  paid 
207 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HO^E  LIFE 

his  usual  visit.  Mine  calmed  her  fears  with 
a  smile. 

"  You  will  see  him  to-day  still,"  she  said, 
and  leaving  her  to  wait  for  her  lover,  she 
entered  the  room  of  the  old  man. 

He  gave  her  a  friendly  welcome. 

"  What  blessings  do  you  bring  me  ?  "  he 
said  as  that  other  time,  and  invited  her  to  be 
seated. 

But  she  stood  before  him  erect,  like  a 
messenger  from  God. 

"  The  best,"  she  cried,  "  the  happiness  of 
your  child!    Bertha  loves  and  is  loved." 

Reinach  shrank  before  this  violent  assault 
upon  the  sacred  privacy  of  his  family,  and 
took  a  step  backward;  but  she  caught  his 
hand,  and  held  it  between  both  of  hers. 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  she  cried, 
"  I  know  what  I  am  doing.  The  happiness 
of  those  dearest  to  us  is  involved.  Just  see 
how  the  two  loving  souls  are  consumed  by 
the  torment  of  uncertainty.  See  how  your 
daughter  flourishes  in  this  new  element. 
208 


RAV'S  MINE 


Where  would  you  know  her  more  sheltered 
and  protected  than  in  the  heart  of  that 
noblest  of  men  ?  On  this  very  spot  you  once 
granted  me  a  thing  he  nev^f  dared  to  hope 
for.  O  grant  me  now  what  he  doesn't  dare 
even  to  desire!  You  yourself  speak  the 
word  of  deliverance!  Can  you,  magnani- 
mous as  you  are,  be  chary  of  a  single  hour 
which  would  make  us  and  our  dear  ones 
happy  ?  " 

Tears  glittered  in  her  eyes,  and  the  old 
man's  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears.  He  laid 
his  hand  on  her  head  as  in  blessing. 

"  Don't  call  me  magnanimous,"  he  whis- 
pered. "  You  have  shamed  and  humbled 
me,"  and  he  drew  her  head  to  his  breast,  and 
kissed  her  forehead.  Mine  trembled,  as  if 
touched  by  a  heavenly  kiss  of  consecration. 
The  beauty  of  her  soul  glorified  her  pale 
face. 

The  door  had  opened  softly,  and  Bertha 
and  Henoch  regarded  the  pair  in  amaze- 
ment.    Reinach  looked  up. 
209 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  My  children ! "  he  exclaimed,  and 
stretched  his  arms  toward  them.  Bertha 
flew  to  him,  and  hid  her  glowing  face  on 
her  father's  breast.  Henoch  stood  dumb- 
founded by  his  happiness.  The  old  man 
nodded  to  him,  and  grasped  his  and  Bertha's 
hands.  But  suddenly  he  recollected  him- 
self, and  pulled  Mine  to  him. 

"  This  is  the  only  hand  from  which  you 
may  receive  her !  "  he  said  with  an  affection- 
ate smile. 

When  Henoch,  intoxicated  by  joy,  put  his 
arms  about  the  old  man,  then  about  Mine, 
and  last  of  all  about  Bertha,  no  sound  es- 
caped anyone's  lips  to  break  the  sacred 
silence  in  the  half -lighted  room,  through 
which  the  spirit  of  eternal  love  sent  its 
heavenly  harmonies. 

The  marriage  was  solemnized  in  the 
autumn,  in  Joel  Reinach's  room.  The  offi- 
ciating minister  was  a  friend  of  Henoch's, 
and  shared  his  aspirations.  Mine  was  the 
only  witness.  Mr.  Reinach  had  given  her  a 
210 


RAV'S  MINE 


piece  of  costly  silk  for  a  dress  to  wear  on  the 
occasion. 

At  the  end  of  the  ceremony,  when  the 
young  couple  went  to  their  new  home,  which 
the  congregation  had  built  for  them  next 
to  the  Temple,  Mine  accompanied  them  to 
the  threshold,  and  embraced  them  with  a 
motherly  blessing. 

Then  she  returned  to  her  little  room, 
ripped  up  the  new  silk  dress,  sewed  the 
pieces  together  into  a  cover  for  the  pulpit, 
and  edged  it  with  the  Brabant  lace  that 
Joel  Reinach  had  returned  to  her — for  her 
bridal  gown! 

At  her  husband's  desire.  Bertha,  accord- 
ing to  prescribed  form,  hid  her  abundant 
curls  under  a  white  cap,  which  framed  her 
face  like  a  sacred  aureole.  Happiness  had 
transfigured  her,  but  Mine's  appearance  was 
even  more  radiant  when  she  looked  at  the 
two  beloved  people  from  whom  she  was  now 
inseparable. 

Mine  laid  three  fine  children  on  the  grand- 

211 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

father's  knees — Job  saw  new  life  blossom- 
ing on  the  ruins.  He  closed  his  eyes  in 
peace.  He  knew  his  Bertha  was  under  the 
protection  of  a  noble  husband  and  a  loving 
mother. 

All  would  have  been  well,  had  not  the 
enemy  of  happiness,  death-dealing  cholera, 
at  that  time  stalked  through  Germany  on 
its  tour  of  devastation.  It  raged  in  the  com- 
munity, and  the  noble  minister  was  ever  at 
the  side  of  the  sick  and  the  dying.  But  the 
fate  of  the  beautiful  on  earth  overtook  him 
also.  The  poison  entered  his  system,  and 
after  a  short  painful  struggle  his  winged 
soul  flew  to  the  Source  of  all  love. 

Mine  stood  at  his  bed  next  to  Bertha  in 
mute  despair.  She  had  but  one  prayer: 
that  the  angel  of  death  might  kiss  her,  too. 
But  he  preferred  the  blooming  flower  to  the 
withered  one,  and  he  kissed  Bertha's  young, 
full  lips.  Bertha  and  Henoch  were  buried 
on  the  same  day. 

When  Mine  saw  what  was  dearest  to  her 

212 


RAVS  MINE 


on  earth  taken  from  her,  she  turned  to  Prov- 
idence broken  and  bowed,  with  the  cry : 

"  What  should  I  do  here  still?  " 

The  children's  voices  reached  her  ears. 
They  were  playing  and  chattering  in  the 
adjoining  room.  She  understood  the  an- 
swer of  Providence. 

She  became  the  mother  of  the  orphans, 
and  they  prospered  under  her  care.  The 
oldest  had  his  father's  dark  curls  and  his 
large,  deep  eyes.  The  youngest,  scarcely 
two  years  old,  had  the  seraphic  beauty  of  its 
mother. 

In  her  care  of  the  beloved  children  Mine 
found  her  youth  again.  She  played  with 
them,  told  them  fairy  tales,  and  sang  "  To 
Alexis,"  and  "  In  Myrtill's  Ruined  Hut." 

When  the  children  gathered  blossoms  in 
the  orangery,  and  Mine's  eyes  wandered 
over  the  grassy  stretch  of  Bowling  Green, 
she  greeted  the  departed  ones  in  spirit,  and 
knew  they  were  smiling  down  a  blessing  on 
the  guardian  of  their  children,  whom  she 
213 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

educated  in  the  spirit  of  their  father,  and 
in  sacred  remembrance  of  their  sainted 
parents. 

She  lived  to  be  an  old  woman,  and  saw 
all  three  established  in  life.  When  she 
closed  her  eyes  for  the  last  time,  three 
mourners  stood  at  her  side. 

They  wanted  to  bury  her  next  to  her 
parents,  the  old  Rav  and  Mrs.  Siiss.  But 
there  was  no  room.  The  dead  press  upon 
one  another  like  the  living.  By  chance  a 
little  plot  was  found  next  to  Henoch  and 
Bertha. 

There  lies  Rav's  Mine! 


214 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 

About  nine  miles  to  the  south  of  the  capi- 
tal are  two  villages  whose  boundaries  meet 
The  dunghill  between  two  low  clay  huts  is 
the  end  of  the  one  and  the  beginning  of  the 
other.  Hof  and  Breitenbach  are  inhabited 
for  the  most  part  by  Jewish  peddlers  and 
Schnorrers.  Situated  in  a  barren  plain, 
they  look  like  a  daub  of  mud  when  viewed 
from  afar,  the  very  type  of  poverty  and 
neglect.  The  little  houses  crouch  under 
gray  straw  or  shingle  roofs;  the  broken 
panes  are  stopped  up  with  paper,  or  hung 
with  a  dirty  rag  instead  of  curtains;  and 
only  one  house  in  the  place  boasts  two  stor- 
ies. It  belongs  to  Wolf  Breitenbach,  the 
richest  among  the  poor. 

Anyone  who  on  week  days  passes  down 
the  long  unpaved  street,  on  both  sides  of 
which  lie  huts  separated  from  one  another 
217 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

by  shabby  yards  and  plots  of  grass  with  de- 
caying wooden  fences  in  between,  probably 
supposes  he  is  wandering  through  some 
miserable  disinterred  Pompeii.  Not  a  soul 
to  be  seen,  no  lowing  of  cattle,  no  neighing 
of  horses.  Hof  and  Breitenbach  possess 
none  of  the  four-footed  kind.  The  men  are 
away  traversing  the  country,  the  women 
lock  themselves  into  their  huts,  and  the  live- 
liest sight  is  afforded  by  a  couple  of  black 
unkempt  children  wading  barefoot  through 
the  mud-puddles  after  geese. 

But  on  Friday  evening  at  dusk  all  the 
windows  are  suddenly  illumined  like  the 
cabins  of  the  Flying  Dutchman.  From  the 
ground  floor  of  Wolf  Breitenbach's  house 
a  seven-beaked  lamp  sends  its  gleam  over 
the  street,  and  men,  women,  and  children, 
washed  and  furbished  up,  go  humming  and 
swaying  to  the  room  set  aside  for  prayers 
in  the  rich  man's  house.  Later  they  return 
to  their  own  homes,  now  scoured  and  lighted 
up. 

218 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


Throughout  the  following  day,  the  Sab- 
bath, the  villages  continue  to  be  enlivened. 
In  the  afternoon  the  boys  and  girls  stroll 
through  the  meadows,  the  elders  converse 
with  animated  gestures  in  the  street,  and 
the  matrons  sit  before  their  huts,  their  hair 
carefully  hidden  under  black  silk  caps,  while 
the  children  scuffle  over  a  handful  of  hazel 
nuts. 

Sunday  morning  the  villages  are  dead 
again.  For  as  soon  as  the  "  week  "  begins, 
our  Phoenicians  sail  from  Sidon  and  Tyre, 
to  go  along  their  trade  routes  to  their 
usual  little  emporiums.  Many  of  them 
"  schnorr.''  They  collect  the  tribute  of 
"  week  money  "  in  the  houses  of  the  city, 
also  a  bite  to  eat  and  a  shelter  for  the  night. 
The  profits  of  their  mendicancy  suffices  to 
"  make  Shabbes "  at  home  for  them  and 
their  families,  and  even  leave  bread  behind 
for  the  week.  But  the  better  element  goes 
trading;  which  consists,  you  might  say,  of 
importing  and  exporting.  In  the  city  they 
219 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

buy  up  old  clothes,  thread,  needles,  and  rib- 
bons, then  carry  them  to  the  villages  and 
farms  of  the  vicinity  to  exchange  them  in 
primitive  fashion  for  young  geese.  The 
geese  constitute  the  article  of  export.  The 
women  and  children  at  home  fatten  them  up 
by  the  stuffing  process.  The  geese  eat  and 
grow  stout  against  their  will.  When  they 
attain  the  right  proportions,  they  are  killed 
according  to  the  ritual.  With  the  seal  of 
orthodoxy  attached  to  their  necks,  they  are 
borne  off  to  the  city  in  large  knapsacks,  and 
sold  there  to  the  Jewish  wives  and  fathers 
after  much  bargaining  on  both  sides. 

Each  goose-dealer  has  his  "  houses,"  and 
woe  to  the  man  who  competes  with  him  on 
his  field.  Curses  rain  down,  shaming  the 
imprecations  on  Mount  Ebal.  Thus  each 
man  learns  to  respect  the  emporium  of  his 
neighbor,  and  trembles  before  his  righteous 
wrath. 

Most  dreaded  of  all  was  Tobias  Hof. 
He  had  the  rounds  of  the  best  houses  in  the 

220 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


city,  and  knew  how  to  give  the  leanest  goose 
the  most  presentable  appearance,  by  blow- 
ing through  its  windpipe  until  it  displayed  a 
fine  swelling  bosom.  If  he  was  offered  one 
half  of  his  demand,  he  swore  by  his  bliss  in 
Gan-Eden  he  could  not  let  up  one  red  heller. 
Finally  he  sacrificed  one-half  his  bliss  in  the 
next  world  to  the  necessities  of  this  world. 

He  was  a  tall,  scrawny  individual,  with  a 
long  eagle  nose,  and  curly  black  hair,  some- 
what grizzled.  He  could  carry  twelve  heavy 
geese  in  his  knapsack  without  wearying,  and 
his  long  patriarch's  cane  struck  the  ground 
surely  and  firmly  as  the  Alpine  stick  of  a* 
chamois  hunter.  His  wife  was  a  master 
hand  at  stuffing  geese  and  a  virtuoso  in 
stripping  feathers. 

But  she  fell  sick  of  a  liver  disease  and 
died.  Perhaps  the  cell  she  shared  with  her 
geese  was  the  cause  of  her  death,  perhaps 
ft  was  the  spirits  of  her  victims  revenging 
themselves  on  her  for  their  preternaturally 
distended  livers.  Tobias  mourned  not  only 
221 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

his  life-companion,  but  also  the  prop  of  his 
trade,  the  feeder  of  his  geese  and  of  his  one 
child.  Could  little  Taubchen,  a  girl  of 
scarcely  ten,  replace  her  mother  in  caring 
for  the  geese  ?  Impossible !  He  saw  his 
source  of  a  livelihood  running  dry,  saw  the 
geese  of  his  competitors  winging  high  over 
his  head,  saw  the  best  houses  in  the  city 
slipping  from  him. 

These  thoughts  broke  Tobias  Hof's 
strength  and  courage.  Nobody  understood 
his  outbursts  of  despair,  for  he  had  never 
coddled  his  wife  with  overmuch  tenderness. 
Only  Wolf  Breitetibach's  sly  eye  penetrated 
the  depths  of  his  heart. 

"  Rebbe  Tobias,"  he  said  one  evening, 
while  sitting  alone  with  the  mourner,  "  why 
do  you  act  as  if  the  world  had  been  nailed 
up  ?  Are  you  the  first  one  upon  whom  God, 
blessed  be  He,  has  visited  such  a  thing  as 
this?  I  had  to  give  up  my  wife,  too,  peace 
be  with  her,  more  than  sixteen  years  ago." 

"  You  can  talk,  Rebbe  Wolf.     You're  a 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


rich  man,  and  trade  in  clothes  and  goods, 
which  you  can  get  anywhere  ready-made. 
But  who's  to  stuff  my  geese  for  me,  now 
that  she,  peace  be  with  her,  is  no  longer 
here?" 

"  Rebbe  Tobias,  don't  be  angry  with  me. 
You're  talking  Shtuss.  First  of  all :  how 
do  you  make  it  out  that  I'm  a  rich  man? 
Because  I  don't  do  things  by  halves  ?  That's 
why  Tm  Wolf  Breitenbach.  But  now  as  to 
you — certainly,  I  don't  want  to  be  unjust  to 
your  wife,  peace  be  with  her,  but  there  are 
other  people  beside  her  who  can  stuff  geese. 
There's  Bule  Bettenhausen  for  one,  the 
widow  who  peddles  old  clothes.  You  know, 
her  son,  Long  Meyer,  patches  the  clothes  up, 
and  she  sells  them.  Well,  she  can  help  you, 
and  the  child  will  soon  learn  from  her. 
Stuffing  geese  is  no  magic,  and  little  Taub- 
chen  is  very  smart  for  her  age.  If  you  give 
Bule  a  couple  of  groschen,  she'll  come  to  you 
for  a  few  hours  every  day  to  stuff  your 
geese.'* 

223 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  But  the  couple  of  groschen !  '*  Tobias 
cried  vehemently.  "If  I  haven't  got 
them?" 

"  That's  the  reason  I'm  talking  to  you, 
you  Chammer!"  Wolf  replied  still  more 
vehemently.  "  I'll  give  you  a  few  dollars, 
and  you'll  pay  them  back,  small  sums  at  a 
time.  I  won't  ask  interest.  Wolf  Breiten- 
bach  doesn't  do  things  by  halves." 

The  week's  stubbly  growth  on  Tobias 
Hof's  face  had  turned  him  into  an  old  man. 
He  was  bowed  and  crushed.  But  now  he 
straightened  himself  up,  all  his  dying  hopes 
rising  within  him  again. 

"Rebbe  Wolf,"  he  said,  "that's  more 
than  I  could  ever  have  hoped  for.  If  you 
need  anyone  to  run  through  fire  for  you,  all 
you  have  to  say  is :     *  Tobias,  run ! '  " 

A  few  days  later  the  contract  with  Bule 
Bettenhausen  was  closed.  Every  morning 
and  every  evening  she  came  over  to  give  the 
geese  their  feed  and  instruct  little  Taub- 
chen,  who  displayed  remarkable  acquisitive- 

224 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


ness  in  learning  to  stuff  the  fowl.  Tobias 
Hof  returned  to  his  trade,  but  his  pride  was 
in  a  measure  broken.  The  sense  of  depend- 
ence on  Wolf  Breitenbach  stifled  the  words 
on  his  lips,  and  toned  down  his  gestures. 
He  began  to  stoop,  and  his  knapsack  was 
not  so  heavily  weighted  as  formerly. 

Taubchen  was  always  referred  to  as 
"  little,"  because  she  was  unusually  small 
for  her  eleven  years.  Nevertheless,  she  was 
a  fresh  and  healthy  child.  After  the  Friday 
afternoon  wash,  her  round  cheeks  glowed 
like  two  newly  plucked  apples.  Her  fore- 
head was  low,  lower  even  than  that  of  the 
Venus  de  Medici.  The  black  hair  grew  in 
deep  on  it,  and  fluttered  about  her  neck  like 
the  mane  of  a  filly,  except  on  the  Sabbath, 
when  it  was  braided  into  plaits.  Eyebrows 
black  as  if  pencilled  with  charcoal  arched 
over  eyes  glowing  like  charcoal  on  fire. 
The  little  teeth  shone  like  a  squirrel's, 
though  she  did  not  know  the  luxury  of  a 
tooth-brush  even  from  hearsay.     Her  gar- 

225 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ments  consisted  of  a  little  brown  woolen 
smock-frock,  frequently  patched  and  never 
changed,  and  a  coarse  shirt  of  huckaback 
changed  every  Friday  evening. 

The  saying,  "  salt  and  bread  make  cheeks 
red,"  was  well  illustrated  in  Taubchen.  For 
this  was  her  fare  the  week  through,  unless^ 
on  her  trips  across  country  a  peasant  woman 
presented  her  with  an  apple. 

Taubchen,  too,  now  pursued  an  import 
and  export  trade.  The  import  consisted  in 
cramming  peas,  beans,  and  dried  carrots 
down  the  throats  of  the  geese,  an  act  of 
force  she  had  learned  from  Mrs.  Bule  to 
perform  most  skilfully,  with  the  grace  of  a 
Leda  playing  with  her  winged  companions. 
The  export  branch  of  the  trade  was  going 
to  the  neighboring  villages  and  farms  to 
drive  home  the  young  geese  her  father  had 
acquired  there.  An  osier  switch  was  her 
rod  of  command.  In  a  clear  voice  she  sang 
the  Shir  ha-Ma'alos,  which  her  father  in- 
toned less  melodiously  every  Sabbath  eve. 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


It  was  noon  of  a  lovely  summer  day  when 

Taubchen  set  out  for  Martinhagen,  to  do 

her  father's  bidding  and  fetch  a  flock  of 

young  geese  home.     She  had  a  white  cloth 

bound  about  her  head  to  protect  her  from 

the  sun,  and  the  black  eyes  flashed  from 

under  it  right  roguishly  as  she  passed  the 

low  house  where  Mrs.  Bule  lived.     Long 

Meyer  was  sitting  at  the  window  patching 

a  pair  of  old  trousers.    He  was  a  tall,  lanky 

fellow  of  seventeen  or  eighteen,  with  a  long 

neck  always  stuck  forward,  and  long  arms 

and  hands.    His  nose,  too,  was  long.     The 

only  short  thing  about  him  was  his  hair, 

which  lay  close  to  his  head  like  Astrachan 

fur.    He  was  so  engrossed  in  his  work  that 

Taubchen  had  to  call  up: 

"How  d'ye  do,  Meyer?" 

He  stretched  his  neck  from  the  window. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Taubchenleb ? " 

"  To  Martinhagen,  to  fetch  geese." 

"What!      Six    miles    across    country  I 

You're  not  afraid  ?  " 

227 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Taubchen  laughed   aloud. 

"  There's  nothing  on  me  to  steal,  so  no- 
body v/ill  rob  me.  And  nobody  will  kill  me, 
either.  But  how  would  it  be  if  you  came 
alon 


p  " 


"  If  I  only  could," — Meyer  opened  his 
eyes — "  but  I  mayn't." 

"You  mayn't?" 

"  No,  Taubchenleb,"  he  said,  looking  back 
of  him  timidly.  "  I'm  afraid  of  my 
mother." 

"  If  I  were  as  long  as  you,  I  wouldn't  be 
afraid  of  a  soul !    Good-by !  " 

She  ran  off,  her  little  bare  feet  twinkling 
in  the  sun.  Meyer  kept  his  neck  stretched 
from  the  window  until  she  disappeared 
around  the  corner. 

Taubchen  had  soon  left  the  village  behind 
her,  and  was  walking  sturdily  between  end- 
less potato  patches  and  sorry-looking  fields 
of  grain.  Here  and  there  she  tore  off  a 
ripe  stalk,  and  crunched  the  kernels  between 
her  white  mouse  teeth.  Or  she  pulled  a  red 
228 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


poppy  from  its  waving  stem  to  stick  it  over 
her  ear,  between  the  white  cloth  and  the 
black  hair.  At  the  brook,  though  there 
was  a  plank  across,  she  waded  through  the 
water  to  wash  the  dust  from  her  feet.  And 
here  with  an  old  broken  penknife  she  cut 
the  osier  twig  with  which  to  drive  the  geese. 
The  foot-bath  visibly  refreshed  her,  for  she 
kept  up  the  Shir  ha-Ma*alos  in  even  a  clearer 
voice,  until  she  saw  the  red-tiled  roof  of  the 
farm  house  at  Martinhagen  shining  at  the 
end  of  an  avenue  of  poplars.  She  began  to 
walk  more  slowly. 

The  people  of  the  house  were  eating  their 
evening  meal  under  an  old  pear-tree  in  the 
courtyard,  in  front  of  the  low  broad  build- 
ing. A  large  bowl  of  boiled  potatoes  and  a 
dish  of  lard  stood  on  the  table.  The  huge 
black  loaf  bore  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  its 
back. 

Taubchen  went  up  to  the  farmer's  wife, 
and  asked  for  the  geese  her  father  had  sent 
her  to  fetch.  While  the  woman  was  gone 
229 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

after  them  to  the  poultry  yard,  the  men  and 
maid  servants  scrutinized  the  Jewish  child, 
who  had  taken  off  her  head-cloth  in  the 
shade  of  the  pear-tree,  and  unbound  her 
black  mane. 

"  Will  you  have  something  to  eat  with 
us  ?  "  a  girl  called  out,  and  held  a  piece  of 
bread  spread  with  lard  toward  her. 

Taubchen  made  a  wry  face  at  sight  of 
the  lard,  and  repelled  the  offer  with  an  ex- 
cited gesture.  A  tall  flaxen-haired  fellow 
with  watery  blue  eyes  seemed  to  divine  her 
feelings. 

"  The  little  black  imp  is  disgusted  at  the 
thought  of  eating  our  bread,"  he  growled, 
and  spreading  a  piece  of  bread  thickly  with 
lard,  called  out,  "Come  here,  Shicksel! 
You  make  our  geese  kosher,  so  Til  make 
you  yourself  kosher!  " 

Everybody  laughed  merrily,  and  the  fel- 
low made  a  dive  for  Taubchen,  catching  her 
about  the  body  with  his  mighty  right  arm. 
With  his  left  hand  he  tried  to  ram  the  bread 
230 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


and  lard  into  her  mouth.  But  the  Httle  girl 
pressed  her  teeth  together,  and  struck  out  at 
her  tormentor's  fresh  face  so  lustily  with 
her  small  fists  that  the  features  of  the  Chris- 
tian Teuton  were  soon  quite  distorted. 

"  Beast  of  a  Jewess !  "  he  yelled. 

"Let  the  child  alone!"  called  out  the 
farmer's  wife,  who  had  come  on  the  scene, 
and  punched  his  side  with  her  good  strong 
hand.  "Shame  on  you,  Hans  Ludwig! 
Here  are  your  geese,"  she  continued  quietly. 
"  There  are  five.  Your  father  marked  them 
hmiself  by  pulling  out  their  tail  feathers. 
Will  you  eat  something?  Potatoes  or 
bread?" 

"  Thank  you,  I  don't  care  for  anything," 
replied  Taubchen,  looking  askance  at  the 
dish  of  lard,  and  tying  on  the  white  cloth. 
The  farmer's  wife  looked  displeased,  then 
thrust  her  hand  into  her  pocket,  and  drew 
out  a  great  red  June  apple. 

"Well,  that's  kosher,  is'nt  it?"  she  said 
smiling.     Taubchen  laughed,  too,  and  sank 

231 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

her  little  white  teeth  into  it.  But  she  quickly 
bethought  herself,  stuck  the  apple  into  the 
pocket  of  her  smock-frock,  and  drove  and 
enticed  her  geese  together. 

"  Get  them  home  safe,"  said  the  farmer's 
wife.  "  And  tell  your  father  I  need  flannel 
for  swaddling  clothes.    Do  you  hear  ?  " 

Taubchen  merely  nodded  her  head,  for 
she  needed  all  her  words  to  drive  out 
the  geese,  which  had  gone  cackling  in 
search  of  morsels  in  their  customary  mud- 
puddles. 

The  avenue  of  poplars  was  traversed 
without  any  mischance,  and  in  the  open 
country  the  young  geese  followed  their 
leader  more  willingly.  She  spoke  and  sang 
to  them,  beating  time  with  the  osier  switch, 
and  so  keeping  her  quintet  together  beauti- 
fully. Soon  the  ford  through  the  brook 
was  reached.  Here  the  geese  scattered, 
swimming  about  in  the  water,  fluttering 
their  wings,  and  cackling.  At  the  very 
moment  the  little  leader  summoned  all  her 

232 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


talents  as  a  strategist  to  range  her  disbanded 
forces,  an  enemy  broke  out  from  ambush  in 
the  undergrowth  of  osiers.  The  flaxen- 
haired  farmhand  and  two  half-grown  churls 
in  blue  smock-frocks  had  slipped  to  the  ford 
by  way  of  the  fields.  While  the  two  aides 
frightened  the  geese  away  with  wild  halloos, 
Hans  Ludwig  triumphantly  moved  upon  the 
frightened  girl. 

"  My  geese,  my  geese ! "  she  cried,  and 
wanted  to  rush  after  them.  But  Hans  Lud- 
wig held  her  fast. 

"Wait,  Shicksel,  I  owe  you  an  answer 
for  the  way  you  treated  me." 

"Let  me  go,"  screamed  Taubchen,  and 
defended  herself  as  best  she  could. 

The  farmhand  clutched  her  tighter  and 
tighter. 

"  Shema  Yisroel !  "  the  child  cried  out  in 
despair.     "  My  geese,  my  geese!  " 

The  time  of  miracles  is  not  past.  Israel 
heard  the  appeal.  A  fellow,  the  length  of  a 
tree,  with  black  wooly  hair,  swinging  a  long 
233 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

pole  torn  from  a  neighboring  bean  field, 
suddenly  sprang  upon  the  flaxen-haired  Teu- 
ton, and  dealt  him  a  heavy  blow  on  his  broad 
shoulders. 

"Let  the  child  go,  or  I'll  kill  you!"  he 
thundered. 

Hans  Ludwig,  startled,  loosed  his  grasp 
on  his  victim,  and  whistled  through  his 
fingers  for  his  comrades.  But  these  had 
gone  astray  in  the  underbrush  of  osiers 
a-chasing  the  geese,  and  when  the  bully  real- 
ized they  would  not  come,  he  merely 
clenched  his  fists  and  skulked  away. 

Taubchen  could  not  believe  her  eyes. 

"  Meyer !  You  ?  Really,  you  ?  How  do 
you  come  to  be  here?  " 

"  I  followed  you,  Taubchenleb,  and  came 
just  in  time — when  that  ruffian  was  about  to 
do  something  to  you." 

Taubchen  laughed  from  behind  her  tears. 

"  What  could  he  have  done  to  me  ?  He 
wouldn't  have  killed  me.     But  my  geese !  " 

"  We'll  get  them  together.  Don't  worry," 
234 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


Long  Meyer  answered,  walking  very  erect 
and  shouldering  the  bean  pole  like  a  bayonet. 

Taubchen  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 
They  walked  along  the  brook  up-stream. 

"  Wait,  ril  sing,"  said  Taubchen,  and 
began  to  troll  her  melody.  First  one  came 
swimming,  then  a  second,  and  a  third. 
They  had  crept  under  the  reeds  and  osiers 
to  escape  their  pursuers.  Now  all  five  came 
waddling  through  the  shallower  water  of 
the  brook.  Taubchen  wanted  to  lure  them 
to  the  bank ;  she  sang  in  vain. 

"  I'll  help  you,"  said  Meyer,  and  he,  too, 
began  to  sing  the  same  Shir  ha-Ma'alos,  but 
in  a  voice  that  rang  far  and  wide. 

"  Lord,  what  a  voice  you  have ! "  Taub- 
chen marvelled. 

As  in  a  theatre  the  buzz  and  hum  of  con- 
versation suddenly  ceases  when  the  tenor 
begins  his  aria,  so  the  geese  craned  their 
necks  toward  the  singer  in  astonishment, 
and  one  after  the  other  waddled  to  the  bank 
as   if   to  bring   him   homage.      Taubchen 

235 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Stroked  their  wet  feathers  and  gave  them 
crumbs  of  bread.  Now  they  gladly  followed 
her  lead. 

Taubchen  walked  along  beside  Meyer. 
In  putting  her  hand  into  her  pocket  for  the 
crumbs,  she  had  felt  the  apple,  and  now 
held  it  hidden  in  her  hand. 

"  Meyer,"  she  said,  "  do  me  the  favor  and 
take  this  apple.  The  farmer's  wife  gave  it 
to  me.     Please,  do !  " 

"If  you  beg  me,  Taubchen,"  was  the 
knightly  reply  of  the  Jewish  St.  George. 

But  Taubchen  was  eyeing  the  apple  in 
embarrassment. 

"  You  mustn't  be  disgusted.  I  bit  into 
one  side  of  it.    You  can  eat  the  other  side." 

Meyer  scrutinized  the  little  incisions  run- 
ning in  a  regular  half-moon  across  one  side 
of  the  apple,  and  bit  on  the  very  same  spot. 

"  Thank  you,  Taubchenleb." 

They  walked  along  together  for  some 
time  without  speaking.  Taubchen  did  not 
want  to  disturb  him  in  the  eating  of  the 

236 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


apple.  When  he  finally  threw  the  core 
away,  she  took  up  the  word,  but  continued 
to  drive  her  little  flock  with  gentle  applica- 
tions of  the  switch. 

"  Tell  me,  Meyer,  where  did  you  sudden- 
ly get  your  courage  from?  You're  usually 
so  afraid." 

"  You  know,"  he  replied,  smiling  shrewd- 
ly, "  Vm  really  not  afraid.  But  I'll  tell  you 
something,  Taubchen,  and  you  mustn't  say 
a  word  about  it  to  a  soul — my  mother  wants 
me  to  pretend  I'm  afraid,  because,  she  says, 
if  they  think  I'm  chicken-hearted,  they  won't 
enlist  me  in  the  army." 

"  And  why  don't  you  want  to  go  into  the 
army  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  mend  the  old  clothes  for  her, 
and  I'd  have  to  go  to  the  city." 

"  Well,  would  that  be  so  terrible?  I'd  go 
to  the  city  any  minute.  Lord,  what  my 
father  doesn't  tell  me  about  the  city !  Noth- 
ing but  big  houses  with  nothing  but  rich 
people  living  in  them." 
237 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  That's  according  to  the  way  you  look 
at  it,"  said  Meyer,  with  superior  worldly 
wisdom.  "  A  rich  man  in  one  city  can  be  a 
poor  man  in  a  bigger  city.  Now,  in  our 
place,  they  say  Wolf  Breitenbach  is  rich?  " 

"  Well,  isn't  he  ?  Hasn't  he  his  own 
house,  with  two  stories,  and  my  father  once 
said  Wolf  Breitenbach  has  money,  much 
money,  at  least  two  thousand  dollars." 

Meyer  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  only  wish  you  and  I  and  our  parents 
had  the  difference  between  two  thousand  and 
what  he  actually  has !  But  what  do  we  care  ? 
If  God  only  keeps  you  and  my  mother  well, 
I'm  satisfied,  and  don't  ask  to  go  to  the 
city." 

He  looked  at  her  good-humoredly  with 
his  little  black  eyes.  Taubchen  glanced  up 
at  him  again,  and  came  to  a  stand. 

"  I  haven't  even  thanked  you,  Meyer." 

"What  for?" 

"  For  having  come  just  when  that  farm- 
hand attacked  me." 

238 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


She  reached  him  her  hand. 

"  Shtuss ! "  repHed  Meyer,  reddening. 
"  Even  if  I  hadn't  come,  he  wouldn't  have 
done  anything  to  you." 

They  arrived  at  the  village.  The  girl 
paused. 

"  Now,  Meyer,  you  go  first.  It  doesn't 
look  right  for  you  to  be  walking  behind  the 
geese." 

"  I'm  not  walking  behind  the  geese.  I'm 
walking  behind  you,"  answered  St.  George. 

Taubchen  told  no  one  of  her  adventure, 
and  refrained  from  speaking  of  it  even  with 
Meyer.  She  quietly  went  on  stuffing  geese, 
and  he  quietly  went  on  patching  up  old 
clothes.  When  people  talked  of  Long 
Meyer,  and  how  afraid  he  was  of  everybody 
and  everything,  she  would  make  a  queer 
face. 

Next  year,  when  she  had  to  transport 

another  batch  of  geese  from  Martinhagen, 

she  sent  a  challenging  look  at  the  help  in 

the  yard.     She  would  gladly  have  humbled 

289 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  flaxen-haired  bully  with  an  allusion  to 
her  hero.  But  she  did  not  see  him.  A  maid 
told  her  Hans  Ludwig  had  been  draughted 
into  the  army. 

Old  Bule  trembled  when  she  heard  of  the 
recruiting  commission. 

"  Good  God,  now  they'll  take  my  Meyer 
from  me,  too !  " 

Tobias  drew  his  mouth  up  scornfully,  and 
said: 

"  That  chicken-hearted  fellow !  Why, 
they  wouldn't  have  any  use  for  him." 

Bule  smiled  within  herself,  and  Taubchen 
had  to  turn  her  face  away. 

In  the  meanwhile  Taubchen's  charges 
throve  most  wonderfully  under  her  care. 
She  had  fully  replaced  her  mother.  Mrs. 
Bule  only  gave  occasional  star  performances 
in  stuffing. 

The  great  holidays  were  over,  an  autum- 
nal frost  had  nipped  the  leaves  of  the  pota- 
toes, and  the  important  season  for  the  goose 
business  was  drawing  near.     The  Jewish 

240 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


housewives  were  beginning  to  flay  enormous 
numbers  of  fattened  geese  in  order  to  lay 
in  their  store  of  winter  fat. 

A  whole  dozen  of  perfect  Irpecimens  bul- 
ging with  fat  were  lying  ready  on  the  boards 
in  Tobias  Hof's  room.  He  regarded  them 
with  mixed  feelings.  The  pure  delight  of 
old  was  long  gone  from  him.  His  obliga- 
tion toward  Wolf  Breitenbach,  to  whom  he 
was  beholden  not  only  for  the  loan  of 
money,  but  also,  alas!  for  consideration  in 
the  repayment  of  it,  pressed  like  the  yoke 
of  slavery  upon  his  shoulders,  which  no 
longer  felt  their  old  force  to  carry  an  entire 
dozen. 

"  Taubchenleb,"  he  said,  mournfully  wag- 
ging his  head,  "  Tobias  Hof  is  getting  old." 

"  What  stuff  you  imagine,  papa !  Why, 
nothing's  the  matter  with  you.  May  God 
keep  you  as  you  are  a  hundred  years!  But 
you  could  do  me  a  great  favor.  Let  me 
carry  six  of  the  geese,  and  you  carry  the 
other  six.    Then  111  get  a  chance  to  see  the 

241 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

city.  Isn't  it  a  shame  for  me  to  be  nearly 
thirteen  years  old  and  never  to  have  been 
farther  from  this  place  than  Martinhagen? 
Papa,  don't  say  a  word!  You  carry  six, 
and  ril  carry  the  other  six." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  You  won't  carry  more 
than  four.     I'll  carry  the  other  eight." 

Taubchen  rejoiced  over  the  compromise, 
and  got  the  knapsacks  ready  for  herself  and 
her  father.  When  she  went  to  the  kitchen 
to  hunt  up  her  one  pair  of  shoes  in  order  to 
smear  them  with  fresh  oil,  she  surprised  her 
father  in  the  act  of  blowing  through  the 
tube  of  a  clay  pipe  into  the  gullets  of  the 
geese.  He  was  puffing  with  the  full  force 
of  his  lungs. 

"  What  are  you  doing,  papa  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  curious  child. 

"  Nothing,"  muttered  the  old  man,  dis- 
concerted.    "  It's  only  for  looks." 

Taubchen  maintained  silence.  But  while 
packing  her  four  geese  into  the  knapsack, 
she  pressed  upon  them  with  all  her  might, 

242 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


until  a  soft  whistle  announced  the  escape 
of  the  deceiving  air. 

"  So,"  triumphed  the  little  black  kobold, 
*'  this  is  for  looks,  too !  "  Refieved  in  spirits, 
she  heaved  the  burden  to  her  shoulders. 

The  hut  was  locked,  and  the  key  carried 
to  Mrs.  Bule.  Long  Meyer  was  sitting  at 
the  window.    Taubchen  nodded  to  him. 

"  Fm  going  to  the  city.  What  shall  I 
bring  you  ?  " 

"  Another  apple." 

Meyer  stretched  his  long  neck  from  the 
window,  and  looked  after  them  for  many 
minutes. 

"  What  sort  of  an  apple  does  that  long 
Lemech  want  ?  "  asked  Tobias. 

"  O,  stuff !  "  was  the  evasive  answer. 

Father  and  child  walked  along  together 
in  the  autumn  morning  without  exchanging 
many  words.  But  Taubchen  once  broke  the 
silence  to  ask: 

"  Papa,  about  how  rich  is  Wolf  Breiten- 
bach?" 

248 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Richer  than  I  am,"  the  old  man  growled 
in  ill-humor.  "  I  wish  he  owed  me  money, 
instead  of  I  him!  " 

At  the  little  inn,  "The  Last  Heller,"  he 
ordered  a  drink.  He  offered  Taubchen  a 
sip,  but  she  shook  her  head,  and  bit  into 
the  crust  of  bread  she  had  drawn  from  the 
pocket  of  her  smock-frock. 

Business  went  well.  The  little  black  mai- 
den was  a  luck-bringing  companion  for  the 
peevish  old  man.  The  housewives  put  ques- 
tions to  her,  and  laughed  at  her  straightfor- 
ward, unconcerned  answers.  A  child  at  one 
of  the  houses  wanted  to  give  her  a  candy, 
but  she  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it. 

When  Tobias  swore  to  the  justness  of  his 
prices,  people  would  turn  to  her. 

"Is  it  true?" 

"  What  do  I  know  ? "  she  would  reply, 
with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 

The  most  difficult  encounter  was  at  the 
old  Rav's  house. 

"  Taubchenleb,"  said  Tobias,  as  they 
244 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


climbed  the  stairs,  "  the  Rebbetzin  is  a  devil. 
You  mustn't  be  afraid  of  her." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  anybody,"  the  child 
laughed. 

While  Tobias  was  haggling  with  the  Reb- 
betzin in  the  kitchen,  Rav's  Mine — the  old 
Rav's  daughter — stepped  in  from  the  other 
room. 

"  Is  that  your  child,  Tobias  ?  "  she  asked 
in  High  German. 

"  That  is  my  child,"  he  answered,  imitat- 
ing her  accent. 

Mine  seized  Taubchen's  hand,  and  drew 
her  from  the  kitchen  into  a  room  whose 
white  floor  and  white  curtains  hanging  over 
bright  windows  fairly  dazzled  the  child. 
She  came  near  belying  her  own  statement — 
for  an  instant  she  was  actually  afraid  of 
this  aristocratic  person  with  long  black  locks 
and  long  white  fingers.  But  when  the  lady 
stroked  her  hair  affectionately  and  kissed 
her,  she  quickly  regained  her  former  ease  of 
manner. 

245 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

While  kissing  her  on  the  forehead,  Miners 
glance  fell  upon  the  girl's  dainty  ear. 

"  What  dear  little  ears !  "  she  exclaimed, 
but  continued  in  friendly  reproof,  "  Didn't 
you  wash  them  to-day  ?  " 

"  Is  it  Friday?  "  the  child  answered,  star- 
ing at  her.    "  You  wash  only  on  Friday." 

Mine  nodded,  as  if  now  she  understood 
something  hitherto  obscure,  and  whispered: 

"  Poor  child,  you  probably  have  no 
mother?" 

"  I've  been  an  orphan  for  three  years," 
replied  Taubchen,  and  her  large  black  eyes 
grew  moist. 

"  Did  you  learn  anything  at  home  ? " 
Mine  went  on  with  her  questioning,  smooth- 
ing the  rebellious  hairs  away  from  the  child's 
forehead. 

"  O,  yes !  I  can  stuff  geese,  and  strip 
feathers.  Bule  Bettenhausen  says  I  can  do 
it  as  well  as  she  can." 

"  Can  you  read  and  write,  or  knit  and 
sew?" 

24G 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


Taubchen  shook  her  head. 

"  And  how  old  do  you  say  you  are  ?  " 

"  Thirteen  years — may  I  live  to  be  a 
hundred!" 

Mine  smiled,  and  rose.  She  opened  a 
drawer,  from  which  she  drew  a  gay  silk 
handkerchief,  and  tied  it  about  the  child's 
neck.  Taubchen  stood  with  parted  lips,  her 
little  white  teeth  gleaming  between.  Mine 
kissed  her  mouth  shut. 

"  Would  you  like  to  stay  here  in  the  city 
and  learn  something,  Taubchen  ?  "  she  asked 
caressingly. 

The  child's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  should  like  to,  but  my  father  wouldn't 
give  in." 

Mine  walked  quickly  into  the  kitchen. 
The  haggling  had  come  to  an  end,  and  Mrs. 
Suss,  the  Rebbetzin,  had  just  carried  the 
geese  into  the  pantry. 

Now  began  a  short  conversation,  impor- 
tunate on  the  one  side,  attended  by  much 
shrugging  of  the  shoulders  on  the  other. 

247 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Tobias  interpolated  only  a  few  words  into 
the  flow  of  Mine's  plea. 

"Easily  said!"  "A  difficult  matter!" 
and  so  on. 

"  Consider  it,  Tobias,"  Mine  concluded, 
"  and  give  me  your  answer  the  next  time 
you  come  to  the  city." 

Father  and  daughter  returned  home  in 
silence,  neither  imparting  to  the  other  the 
thoughts  awakened  in  their  hearts  by  Rav's 
Mine.  Tobias  calculated  how  much  money 
he  needed  for  buying  in  his  goods,  how 
much  for  rent,  and  how  much  for  coal  and 
oil.  Scarcely  five  dollars  remained  for  pay- 
ing part  of  the  oppressive  debt. 

At  home  they  found  Mrs.  Bule  in  great 
excitement.  Wolf  Breitenbach  had  just  re- 
turned from  the  county  town,  and  told  her 
that  Meyer  Bettenhausen's  name  was  on 
the  list  of  recruits  for  next  spring. 

"  Why  such  a  to-do  ?  "  Tobias  tried  to 
comfort  her.     "  It's  a  long  time  till  spring. 
We  might  all  of  us  be  dead  by  that  time." 
248 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


The  next  day  was  Friday.  Taubchen  had 
never  before  washed  her  ears  so  carefully. 

On  Saturday  after  the  Mincha  service, 
Tobias  went  to  see  Wolf  Breitenbach. 

"  Reb  Wolf,"  he  said,  "  it's  not  right  to 
discuss  business  on  Shabbes,  but  we  don't 
get  a  chance  to  see  each  other  the  whole 
week.  I  didn't  make  a  good  sale  of  my 
geese,  and  I  can't  pay  more  than  five  dollars 
on  my  debt.  I  would  have  brought  the 
money  right  along,  but  you  know  I  don't 
carry  anything  on  Shabbes." 

"  Have  I  asked  for  payment  ?  "  demanded 
Wolf,  gruffly.  "  Why  do  you  come  on 
Shabbes  with  such  talk?  If  you  need  the 
money  still,  why  don't  you  keep  it?  You 
know  Wolf  Breitenbach  doesn't  do  things 
by  halves.  By  the  way,  Reb  Tobias,  why 
did  you  take  Taubchen  to  the  city  with 
you?" 

The  magnanimity  of  his  creditor  so  hum- 
bled Tobias  that  he  would  not  admit  his 
physical  weakness. 

249 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"I  want  to  tell  you  about  that,  Reb 
Wolf,"  he  said,  taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  the 
rich  man  offered  him.  "  IVe  been  thinking 
a  long  time  that  the  child  is  growing  up 
wild  and  neglected  at  home,  and  whether  I 
shouldn't  be  doing  better  to  get  her  into 
some  place  in  the  city  where  she  could  learn 
something." 

"  Reb  Tobias,"  answered  Wolf,  nodding 
graciously,  "  the  thought  does  you  credit. 
Taubchen  is  a  good  child  with  an  open 
mind,  and  knows  how  to  make  people  like 
her.  If  she  were  to  learn  something  worth 
the  while,  she  could  make  her  fortune.  She 
might  be  a  child's  nurse  or  even  a  governess. 
And  ril  tell  you  what — last  year  Linden- 
feld,  an  educated  man,  and  rich — he  owns 
his  own  house  in  the  city — he  married  his 
servant  girl.  Take  my  advice,  Reb  Tobias, 
and  see  to  it  that  Taubchen  goes  to  the  city. 
What  sense  is  there  in  keeping  her  here? 
All  she'd  be  fit  for  is  for  Bule  Bettenhausen's 
long  Schlemihl." 

250 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"  God  forbid !  "  cried  Tobias,  sneezing. 
"  Tve  already  spoken  with  Rav*s  Mine,  and 
I  hope  she'll  help  me.  But  my  business, 
Rebbe  Wolf!  Vm  away  streaking  through 
the  country  all  week.  Who  will  stuff  my 
geese  for  me  ?  Shall  I  pay  someone  again  ? 
How?  I  still  owe  you  so  much  money! 
How  can  I  help  myself?    Tell  me!  " 

Wolf  Breitenbach  drew  a  long  face  at 
this  delicate  allusion  to  a  fresh  loan.  But 
suddenly  he  let  his  breath  out  sharply  be- 
tween his  teeth,  struck  by  a  brilliant  thought. 

"  Reb  Tobias,"  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  I'll 
tell  you  a  story.  Once  there  were  two  men, 
one  was  blind,  the  other  was  lame.  Neither 
of  them,  nebbich,  could  get  away  by  himself 
from  the  place  where  he  was.  But  the  lame 
man  climbed  on  the  blind  man's  back,  and 
told  him  how  to  go.  Then  both  could  get 
away." 

"Well,  where  do  T  come  in?"  asked 
Tobias,  impatiently. 

"  ril  tell  you,"  Wolf  Breitenbach  contin- 
251 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ued  didactically.  "  You  want  to  let  your 
Taubchen  learn  something — you  can^t  get 
along  alone.  They're  going  to  take  Bule 
Bettenhausen's  Long  Meyer  away  from  her 
to  the  army — she  can't  get  along  alone. 
Now,  you  take  Bule  into  your  house — ^you're 
both  old  enough  and  ugly  enough  for  no- 
body to  say  anything  bad  ab©ut  you — and 
the  two  of  you  can  get  along  together.  She 
saves  her  rent,  and  stuffs  your  geese,  and 
you  can  sell  her  old  clothes  for  her.  And  if 
you  should  occasionally  need  a  dollar  or 
two,  you  know  Wolf  Breitenbach  doesn't 
do  things  by  halves." 

The  very  same  evening  Tobias  told  the 
story  to  old  Bule,  and  she  decided  that  if, 
God  forbid,  her  Meyer  should  be  taken  from 
her,  she  would  accept  Tobias  Hof's  propo- 
sition.   However,  it's  a  long  time  till  spring ! 

In  the  meantime  Taubchen  went  to  the 
city  again  with  her  father,  on  this  occasion 
very  well  washed,  though  it  was  not  a  Fri- 
day. The  matter  was  talked  over  in  detail 
252 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


with  Rav's  Mine,  and  it  was  decided  that 
Taubchen  be  taken  in  by  the  Sisterhood, 
and  taught  everything  a  child's  nurse  or 
chambermaid  needs  to  know.  The  presi- 
dent of  the  institution  would  provide  a 
good  place  for  her.  She  was  to  come  to  the 
city  immediately  after  the  Passover,  and 
Rav's  Mine  guaranteed  to  get  her  the  neces- 
sary outfit. 

Tobias  yielded  to  every  suggestion.  Pass- 
ing the  house  of  Lindenfeld  the  educated, 
he  looked  it  up  and  down,  and  with  satisfac- 
tion noted  three  stories. 

The  winter  passed,  the  snowdrops  came, 
and  the  first  chestnut  leaves,  and  the  recruit- 
ing commission. 

"  Make  yourself  small,"  Mrs.  Bule  ad- 
monished her  Meyer.  But  the  maternal 
advice  glanced  off  from  his  mind,  meeting 
resistance  in  the  thought  that  Taubchen 
would  be  in  the  city. 

While  being  measured,  he  drew  himself 
up  to  his  greatest  height,  and  struck  so  mar- 
253 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

tial  an  attitude  that  he  was  immediately 
enlisted  for  the  fusileers  to  be  held  in  re- 
serve for  the  first  division. 

Poor  knight-errant!  Little  he  suspected 
that  his  regiment  of  fusileers  would  not  go 
into  barracks  in  the  capital,  but  in  another 
city,  far  distant  from  the  lady  of  his  heart. 

So  Meyer  marched  to  the  south,  while 
Taubchen,  her  little  bundle  on  her  back,  set 
out  for  the  north  in  the  company  of  her 
father. 

Wolf  Breitenbach  with  rare  generosity 
gave  her  six  linen  handkerchiefs  and  a  piece 
of  printed  calico  for  aprons,  and  on  parting 
kissed  and  blessed  her.  Dresses  and  under- 
garments had  already  been  collected  for  her 
by  Rav's  Mine,  who  since  the  death  of  the 
Rebbetzin  had  devoted  herself  to  the  Sister- 
hood with  redoubled  zeal.  Tobias  took 
leave  of  Taubchen. 

"  Do  not  disgrace  me.  I  will  come  to 
look  after  you  every  week." 

The  Sisterhood  had  been  founded  in  the 
254 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"twenties  "  by  the  Jewish  girls  of  the  capi- 
tal, to  supplement  the  work  of  the  Woman's 
Auxiliary,  which  provided  for  families  in 
general.  The  aim  of  the  Sisterhood  was  to 
care  for  orphaned  girls  and  train  them  to  be- 
come good  domestics.  If  special  talent  was 
displayed,  they  were  educated  as  teachers 
and  governesses.  In  a  building  rented  for 
the  purpose,  twelve  motherless  children 
were  given  a  simple  home  under  the  super- 
vision of  a  resident  matron.  The  daughters 
of  the  best  families  took  turns  in  teaching 
them  reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  and 
needlework.  The  cost  of  feeding  and 
clothing  was  met  by  yearly  contributions 
and  gifts.  The  domestics  trained  in  this 
institute,  of  course,  secured  the  best  situa- 
tions. Housewives  would  often  apply  for 
a  graduate  years  beforehand,  and  in  order 
to  get  her  would  try  to  ingratiate  themselves 
with  the  matron. 

In  a  short  time  little  Taubchen  became  the 
favorite  of  the  Home.     Wolf  Breitenbach 
255 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

was  right — she  had  a  good  mind,  and  knew 
how  to  make  people  like  her.  At  the  end 
of  a  year  she  read  and  wrote  German  with 
ease;  mental  arithmetic  went  faster  than 
calculations  on  paper,  and  sewing  and  knit- 
ting fairly  flew  from  under  her  fingers. 
She  kept  the  house  enlivened  with  constant 
song  and  laughter. 

By  this  time  she  knew  other  songs  besides 
the  Shir  ha-Ma'alos,  having  learned  by  heart 
the  airs  Rav's  Mine  sang  to  the  guitar.  It 
was  amusing  to  hear  "  Father  I  am  Calling 
Thee  "  ring  from  her  room  as  she  swept. 

Her  father  came  uncalled,  always  with  a 
wail  and  a  moan,  complaining  how  he  had 
to  toil  and  moil,  how  disagreeable  old  Bule 
was,  and  how  Wolf  Breitenbach  was  friend- 
ly with  him  only  in  order  to  make  him  feel 
the  more  keenly  that  Tobias  was  his  debtor. 

Taubchen  comforted  him. 

"  Have  patience  for  only  one  year  still. 
In  one  year  I'll  be  done.  Several  good 
houses  are  trying  to  get  me.  Then  I'll  look 
256 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


out  for  you,  and  you  can  give  up  your  busi- 
ness, and  pay  back  Wolf  Breitenbach. 
Never  mind  about  old  Bule,  be  patient  with 
her.  She's  mourning  for  her  son.  By  the 
way,  haven't  you  heard  anything  at  all  of 
Meyer,  how  the  good  fellow's  getting 
along?" 

Hereupon  Tobias  went  away  grumbling 
and  growling. 

The  year  passed.  The  old  Rav  died,  and 
Mine  drew  little  Taubchen  still  closer  to  her- 
self. She  even  took  it  upon  herself  to 
choose  the  house  in  which  her  protege  was 
to  serve.  She  selected  that  of  Mrs.  Dinchen 
Homstein,  the  wife  of  the  young  cantor, 
who  had  sung  in  the  chorus  of  the  opera. 
A  new  Temple  had  been  planned,  and  the 
younger  leaders  of  the  community  were  em- 
ploying him  to  prepare  the  songs  and  train 
the  choir.  Mrs.  Dinchen  was  a  good  simple 
soul  from  a  town  not  far  from  Taubchen's 
village,  and  the  kindly  interest  she  had  al- 
ways taken  in  the  child  turned  the  balance 
257 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

in  her  favor.  Her  husband  lived  only  for 
his  "great  duty,"  their  little  son  v^as  not 
more  than  three  years  old,  and  the  apart- 
ment on  Government  Square  v^^as  simple 
and  modest. 

All  this  suited  Mine  very  well.  So,  in 
early  spring,  vi^hen  her  course  of  instruction 
was  ended,  Taubchen  went  into  the  service 
of  Mrs.  Dinchen  Hornstein,  who  treated 
her  as  though  she  were  really  a  child  of  the 
family.  It  goes  without  saying  that  Mrs. 
Dinchen  was  old  Tobias  Hof's  best  cus- 
tomer, who,  so  far  from  trying  to  do  him 
out  of  a  groschen,  each  time  offered  him  a 
drink. 

It  was  pure  joy  to  see  Taubchen  out 
walking  with  the  child.  She  had  grown  and 
developed.  Her  black  hair  drawn  back 
smoothly  was  crowned  with  a  snow-white 
cap.  Her  roguish  black  eyes,  even  when  she 
was  silent,  said  "  Good  morning  "  to  every- 
body she  passed.  A  child's  gaily  colored 
wrap  was  slung  over  her  shoulder,  ready 
258 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


for  lusty  young  Hornstein  to  be  wrapped 
in  when  she  had  to  carry  him  in  her  arms 
after  he  was  tired  out  with  jumping  around. 
But  as  long  as  he  ran  about,  she  kept  knit- 
ting blue  woolen  stockings,  and  the  worsted 
colored  her  hands  so  that  she  needed  no 
gloves. 

"  Music,  music,"  the  son  of  the  cantor 
screamed  one  day,  and  pulled  her  by  the 
skirt  in  the  direction  of  the  Guards.  Music 
is  an  inheritance  of  the  children  of  Israel 
from  of  old;  from  Jubal,  whom  they  pro- 
claim an  inventor  of  musical  instruments; 
from  Miriam,  who  played  the  timbrel;  and 
from  David,  who  drew  sweet  notes  from 
the  harp.  Music  has  struck  its  roots  deeper 
into  Judaism  than  Judaism  into  music 

Taubchen,  too,  pricked  her  ears  at  the 
sound  of  the  fifes,  introduced  by  the  great 
Elector  of  Brandenburg,  and  was  about  to 
purse  her  lips  to  whistle  the  tune  of  the 
march,  when  her  mouth  gaped  wide  in  sur- 
prise. 

259 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

One  guard  was  relieving  another.  And 
that  corporal  there,  in  command  of  the  re- 
lievers— that  tall  soldier  with  the  crisp 
black  hair  and  the  black  mustache  shading 
his  thick  upper  lip,  wasn't  it — she  stared  at 
him — he  stared  at  her — he  wanted  to  give 
the  word  of  command,  and  cried  "  Shema 
Yisroel,"  an  order  unintelligible  to  his  com- 
pany. Yes,  it  was  Long  Meyer,  who  had 
thought  so  often  of  her,  of  whom  she  had 
so  often  thought ! 

For  them  to  speak  with  each  other  was 
impossible.  But  Taubchen  had  a  tele- 
graphic code  of  her  own.  She  took  the 
child  in  one  arm,  pointed  to  a  house  oppo- 
site, and  raised  two  fingers  to  designate  the 
number  of  flights.  In  going  she  turned 
about  frequently  to  make  sure  the  telegram 
had  been  deciphered  and  understood. 

It  had  been  understood.  The  very  next 
evening  Long  Meyer  came  to  pay  his  visit, 
and  Mrs.  Dinchen  was  greatly  amazed  to 
see  a  six-footer  of  a  soldier  falling  on  her 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


Taubchen's  neck  without  preliminaries  of 
any  sort.  Taubchen  unembarrassed  intro- 
duced him  as  a  friend  of  her  childhood  and 
a  fellow-villager. 

Long  Meyer  gave  an  account  of  himself. 
As  ill-luck  would  have  it,  he  was  put  into 
the  same  company  as  Hans  Ludwig,  and 
Hans  proceeded  to  make  life  miserable  for 
him.  Long  Meyer  only  the  more  quietly 
and  conscientiously  attended  to  his  duties; 
which  did  not  fail  to  attract  the  attention  of 
his  superior  officer,  who  kept  a  sharp  eye 
upon  the  disturber  of  the  peace.  Long 
Meyer  kept  gaining  in  the  favor  of  the  cap- 
tain, especially  as  he  employed  his  leisure  in 
mending  his  uniform.  Later  the  captain 
was  transferred  to  the  capital,  and  he  ar- 
ranged to  have  Meyer  transferred  with  him. 

"  That's  why  I  am  here !  "  laughed  Meyer, 
joyously. 

Taubchen  laughed,  too,  and  baby  Horn- 
stein  chirped  gleefully,  and  played  with  the 
"  sojer's  "  cartridge  pouch  and  scabbard. 
261 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

From  now  on  Corporal  Meyer  came  to 
the  house  every  evening,  and  stayed  in  the 
kitchen  with  Taubchen  until  just  before 
taps.  Undisturbed  by  his  presence  she  went 
on  with  her  work,  while  he  amused  the  child 
by  converting  an  old  newspaper  into  a  gen- 
eral's hat  with  a  long  plume,  and  letting  him 
ride  horseback  on  his  scabbard.  If  per- 
chance Mrs.  Dinchen  came  into  the  kitchen 
and  heard  the  two  of  them  speaking  of  "at 
home/'  she  sat  herself  down  at  the  scoured 
hearth,  and  joined  them  in  their  talk.  She 
knew  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  two  villages 
from  hearsay,  but  with  the  eminent  Wolf 
Breitenbach  she  was  personally  acquainted, 
for  he  had  visited  Taubchen,  and  she  had 
introduced  him  to  her  "madam"  with 
proud  satisfaction. 

Mr.  Hornstein  did  not  miss  his  wife,  for 
his  thoughts  were  engrossed  by  his  art.  The 
melodies  for  the  new  Temple  had  to  be 
written  out  systematically,  and  he  worked 
without  intermission  upon  fugues  and  coun- 
262 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


terpoint.  One  evening  he  was  engaged  in 
composing  a  new  Lecho  Dodi,  for  which  he 
culled  from  his  memory  opera  airs  and  old 
Jewish  Psalm  motifs,  welding  them  together 
freely  and  boldly.  He  sat  at  the  piano  in  a 
theatrical  attitude,  trying  the  first  stanzas 
of  the  solo  in  his  husky  tenor.  Meyer  lis- 
tened in  the  kitchen. 

"  Good  God!  If  I  had  that  Lecho  Dodi 
to  sing,  you'd  hear  something." 

Taubchen,  who  was  scouring  knives,  dis- 
played two  dimples  in  her  rosy  cheeks. 

"  I  know  what  a  voice  you  have." 

Meyer's  eyes  fell  upon  the  two  little  round 
wells.  Forgetting  all  else,  he  began  to  sing 
the  Lecho  Dodi — the  tune  had  impressed 
itself  upon  his  memory  from  Mr.  Horn- 
stein's  first  singing — in  a  voice  that  thun- 
dered through  the  kitchen,  setting  the  tin 
lids  on  the  walls  a-rattle.  Suddenly  the 
door  opened,  and  there  stood  Mr.  Hornstein 
like  a  ghost,  clad  in  a  gay  dressing-gown, 
the  hair  on  his  temples  done  up  in  curl 
263 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

papers,  a  fashion  left  over  from  his  opera 
days.  He  listened  to  Meyer  open-mouthed. 
Meyer  became  aware  of  his  presence,  and 
the  song  stuck  in  his  throat. 

"  Go  on,  go  on !  "  cried  Mr.  Hornstein. 
"  Young  man,  you  have  a  fortune  in  your 
throat." 

Meyer  hemmed  and  hawed.  He  detected 
nothing  of  this  fortune.  Mr.  Hornstein 
caught  his  hand. 

"  Come  in,"  he  said.  "  You're  the  very 
man  IVe  been  looking  for.  I  need  a  tenor 
for  the  new  Temple.  You  have  the  high  C, 
and  it  seems  you  will  quickly  learn  the  songs 
according  to  the  new  ritual.  Sing  the  scales 
forme!" 

Meyer  looked  desperately  stupid.  Taub- 
chen  laughed.  Her  clever  brain  immedi- 
ately took  in  the  situation,  and  she  realized 
what  a  future  was  awaiting  her  friend. 

"  Well,  Meyer,  where's  your  voice  stick- 
ing? "  she  cried,  and  gave  him  an  encourag- 
ing poke. 

264 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"Have  you  no  desire  to  follow  this 
career?"   asked   Mr.    Hornstein. 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  the  soldier  answered 
awkwardly.  "  I  have  nothing  against  the 
career,  but  I  don't  understand  anything 
about  a  new  rittle — and  I  haven't  sung  on 
the  scales — and  I  didn't  know,  either,  I 
owned  a  sea." 

"That  will  all  adjust  itself,"  said  Mr. 
Hornstein,  with  a  superior  smile,  and  took 
Meyer  to  his  room.  He  struck  notes  on  the 
piano,  which  Meyer  sang  with  remarkable 
accuracy.  The  higher  they  rose,  the  more 
sonorously  his  voice  rang  out.  Then  Mr. 
Hornstein  had  him  give  an  air,  which  he 
sang  with  the  frills  and  flourishes  natural 
to  every  Jewish  throat. 

The  cantor  now  felt  sure  of  his  judgment. 
He  told  Meyer  he  would  report  the  matter 
to  the  congregation,  and  propose  him  as 
assistant  cantor  with  a  salary  of  four  hun- 
dred dollars  a  year. 

"  As  soon  as  your  third  year  of  service  is 

2S5 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ended,  rent  a  room,  and  then  devote  your 
time  exclusively  to  preparing  for  the  posi- 
tion. In  the  interim  I  will  give  you  free  in- 
struction." 

Mr.  Hornstein  dismissed  Meyer,  prouder 
of  his  discovery  than  Columbus  of  having 
found  America. 

As  for  Meyer,  drunk  with  joy,  he  fell 
into  the  arms  of  Taubchen,  who  had  been 
listening  at  the  door. 

"  Good  God,  what  luck !  "  he  cried  over 
and  over  again.  "  Four  hundred  dollars 
and  honor  besides.  I  owe  it  to  you,  Taub- 
chenleb.  Now  I  can  keep  my  old  mother 
with  me,  and — " 

Taubchen  cut  him  off  from  unrolling  the 
rest  of  his  plans. 

"  See  to  it  that  you  get  back  before  taps." 

He  went  or,  rather,  tumbled  out.  But 
taps  had  already  sounded,  and  the  corporal 
had  to  pay  for  his  Lecho  Dodi  with  twenty- 
four  hours'  confinement. 

When  Tobias  Hof  visited  his  daughter 
266 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


the  next  Friday,  she  immediately  began  to 
speak  to  him  of  Meyer.  He  pulled  a  long 
face. 

"  I  don't  know  what  youVe  always  got 
to  do  with  Long  Meyer,"  he  growled. 
"What's  in  that  soldier?" 

But  when  he  heard  of  Meyer's  appoint- 
ment, and  Taubchen  mentioned  four  hun- 
dred dollars  salary,  the  scowl  changed  to  a 
broad  smile. 

"  You  don't  say  so,  Taubchen !  " 

He  cast  a  look  at  her,  and  for  the  first 
time  observed  that  the  child  had  blossomed 
into  womanhood.  Now  he  felt  she  was  not 
to  be  blamed  for  interesting  herself  in  a 
man  with  four  hundred  dollars  salary. 

Weeks  passed.  The  third  year  of  mili- 
tary service  came  to  an  end.  Meyer  left 
the  army,  and  rented  a  small  room.  He 
received  daily  instruction  from  Mr.  Horn- 
stein,  and  daily  he  saw  his  Taubchen.  It 
was  she  who  brought  him  the  written  con- 
tract for  his  appointment  as  assistant  cantor. 
267 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

As  soon  as  the  Temple  was  opened,  he  was 
to  enter  upon  his  duties. 

On  the  same  day  that  Taubchen  showed 
him  the  contract,  but  before  she  herself  had 
yet  received  it  from  Mr.  Hornstein,  Wolf 
Breitenbach  paid  her  a  visit. 

"  I  must  see  how  my  little  Taubchen  is 
getting  along,"  he  said,  and  unrolled  some 
black  silk  from  a  piece  of  paper.  When  he 
handed  it  to  her,  smiling  affably,  Taubchen 
saw  it  was  an  apron. 

"  That  wasn't  necessary,"  said  Taubchen, 
blushing.  "  It's  honor  enough  and  pleasure 
enough  if  a  man  like  Wolf  Breitenbach 
comes  to  see  me." 

She  went  to  the  cupboard,  and  poured  out 
a  glass  of  whiskey. 

"  How  much  do  I  owe  you  for  it  ?  "  he 
asked,  thrusting  his  hand  into  his  trousers' 
pocket  and  clinking  his  money.  "  You 
know  Wolf  Breitenbach  doesn't  do  things 
by  halves." 

Taubchen  drew  back  offended. 

268 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"  It  doesn't  belong  to  my  people.  I 
bought  it  myself  to  serve  my  guests.  You 
wouldn't  shame  me  by  offering  me  money 
for  it?" 

"  God  forbid !  "  he  said,  and  pinched  her 
reddened  cheeks.  '*  I  wish  you  only  good. 
I've  always  liked  you,  and  it  was  only  for 
your  sake  that  I  helped  your  father — I 
should  like  to  know  what  Tobias  Hof  was 
to  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  Taubchen,  in- 
wardly hurt.  Wolf  inspired  her  with  an 
uncanny  feeling,  and  when  he  wanted  to  sit 
down  beside  her  on  the  bench,  she  rose 
quickly,  saying: 

"  Excuse  me,  Reb  Wolf,  the  child's  cry- 
ing. 

She  ran  into  the  next  room,  and  Wolf 
Breitenbach  sent  a  lustful  glance  after  her 
out  of  his  little  gray  eyes. 

At  the  Frankfort  Gate  he  met  Tobias, 
who  had  sold  his  geese,  and  was  carrying 
his  knapsack  lightly  over  his  shoulder. 
269 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Glad  to  see  you ! "  cried  out  Wolf. 
"  Aren't  we  going  the  same  way?  " 

Tobias  muttered  something.  He  feared 
a  reminder  of  his  old  debt. 

"  Wretched  business !  "  he  snarled.  "  Not 
a  heller  profit !  YouVe  got  to  say,  *  Good 
riddance  to  bad  rubbidge/  and  be  glad  you 
don't  have  to  carry  the  geese  home  again." 

Wolf  said  nothing  in  reply.  They  walked 
along  together  to  "  The  Last  Heller.'' 

"  Shan't  we  take  a  little  something  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  money  to  burn,"  Tobias  an- 
swered craftily,  smelling  a  trap. 

"  You'll  take  a  drop  with  me,  or  a  cup  of 
coffee.  Wolf  Breitenbach  doesn't  do  things 
by  halves." 

Tobias  looked  at  him  in  astonishment. 
They  took  seats  under  the  nut-tree,  and 
Wolf  ordered  coffee  and  bread  and  butter. 
It  was  a  mild  day  in  autumn ;  a  gentle  breeze 
was  wheedling  the  dry  leaves  from  the 
branches. 

"  Tobias,"  began  Wolf,  "  I  visited  your 
270 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


Taubchen   to-day.      A   good   child,   a   fine 
child,  I  tell  you—" 

"  Thank  God  she  is,"  Tobias  rejoined. 
"  Only  she  doesn't  earn  what  she  should.  I 
have  nothing  against  the  people,  but  they 
haven't  anything  to  give  away  themselves. 
So  even  though  Taubchen  is  very  anxious  to 
pay  you,  I  can't  return  all  I  owe  you." 

"Have  I  asked  you  to?"  said  Wolf, 
filling  up  a  second  cup  for  his  guest.  "  On 
the  contrary,  Tobias,  I  have  a  proposition 
to  make  to  you — give  me  your  Taubchen, 
and  you're  not  in  debt  to  me." 

Tobias  laughed  till  the  short  pipe  fell 
from  his  lips. 

"  You're  trying  to  make  a  fool  of  me. 
You  want  my  Taubchen  for  a  wife?  So 
help  me  God !  Stuff  and  nonsense !  You're 
three  times  as  old  as  my  Taubchen." 

Tobias  spoke  vehemently. 

"Well,  and  if  I  am?"  screamed  Wolf. 
"Isn't  an  old  horse  worth  more  than  a 
young  dog?" 

271 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  But  a  young  horse  is  worth  still  more." 

"  I  seem  to  be  worth  a  good  deal,  since 
what  I  have,  is  good  enough  to  lend  to  others 
without  interest." 

Tobias  turned  yellow. 

"  You  needn't  be  taunting  me,  Rebbe 
Wolf,  if  that's  all  you're  after." 

"  I  wasn't  after  taunting  you.  I  was  in 
earnest." 

"  I  couldn't  imagine  it,"  said  Tobias,  more 
quietly.  "  Well,  if  you  want,  I'll  speak  to 
Taubchen." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!"  screamed  Wolf, 
jumping  up  purple  in  the  face.  "  I  won't 
have  myself  offered  like  one  of  your  geese ! 
I  thought  you'd  jump  out  of  your  skin  for 
joy,  if  Wolf  Breitenbach  wanted  to  become 
your  son-in-law.  But  if  you  think  you're 
doing  me  a  favor — there,  not  a  word !  Wolf 
Breitenbach  doesn't  do  things  by  halves." 

He  threw  the  money  for  the  reckoning 
on  the  table,  and  left.  Tobias  crossed  over 
to  the  other  side  of  the  street,  and  went  his 
272 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


way  whistling.  "  That's  it,  is  it?  "  He  said 
to  himself.  "  That  is  why  he  lent  me 
money,  the  hound!  Great  God!  Help  me 
get  rid  of  him.  As  it  is,  it  is  killing  me  that 
I  must  be  beholden  to  him.*' 

From  that  day  on  relations  between  the 
two  neighbors  were  strained.  They  did  not 
address,  nor  even  greet,  each  other. 

On  his  next  visit  Tobias  told  his  daughter 
of  Wolf  Breitenbach's  suit. 

"  He  was  making  fun  of  you,"  she  said, 
forcing  herself  to  laugh. 

"  That's  what  I  thought,  too.  But  he  was 
in  earnest,  and  now  he's  angry.  I  wouldn't 
care  a  snap — I  can  live  without  Wolf  Brei- 
tenbach — if  I'd  only  paid  him!" 

Taubchen  maintained  an  embarrassed  si- 
lence. She  did  not  care  to  confess  that  she 
had  lent  her  earnings  to  Meyer  to  pay  for 
the  rent  of  a  room. 

"  At  Purim  I'll  get  two  dollars  from  the 
madam.    You  can  give  them  to  him,  papa." 

Tobias  reached  his  home  thoroughly  out 
273 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

of  sorts.  Old  Bule  was  sickly,  and  snarled 
at  him.  But  she  delivered  him  a  letter 
brought  the  day  before,  and  when  Tobias 
began  to  read  it,  the  folds  in  his  old  face 
gradually  smoothed  themselves  out. 

The  letter  written  in  Hebrew  characters 
was  from  the  rabbi  in  Hers f eld  telling  To- 
bias that  a  childless  cousin  of  his,  who  had  a 
house  and  business  there,  had  been  taken  ill 
and  desired  to  see  one  of  his  relatives.  A 
five  dollar  bill  for  travelling  expenses  was 
enclosed. 

Tobias  quickly  stuck  the  bill  and  his  Tefil- 
lin  in  his  pocket,  deciding  to  start  on  the 
trip  without  delay.  Hers f eld  was  fifteen 
miles  away.  He  could  go  and  return  on 
foot  before  the  night,  and  so  save  the  five 
dollars.  He  did  not  even  stop  to  drink  his 
warm  potato  soup,  but  took  a  piece  of  sau- 
sage and  bread  to  eat  on  the  way. 

The  news  of  his  cousin's  mortal  illness 
came  to  him  like  a  piece  of  good  fortune 
sent  directly  from  Heaven.  What  did  he 
274 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


care  for  Shmul  Chayim,  who  had  never 
done  a  thing  for  his  relative?  But  the  fact 
that  Shmul  Chayim  thought  of  him  in  the 
hour  of  death,  summoned  him  of  all  his 
kith  and  kin  to  his  bedside,  was  an  unmis- 
takable sign  that  he  had  selected  Tobias  to 
be  his  sole  heir.  A  house  in  Hersfeld  and  a 
business !  He  would  sell  both.  Why  should 
he  live  in  Hersfeld  where  no  one  knew  him  ? 
No,  convert  everything  into  cash,  and  ride 
home  with  two  potato  sacks  full  of  dollars, 
throw  Wolf  Breitenbach's  money  at  his  feet, 
and  laugh  at  him  to  his  face.  For  now  he 
hated  Wolf  Breitenbach  above  every  one 
else,  fiercely  and  intensely,  and  it  was  ex- 
actly in  Wolf  Breitenbach's  presence  that 
he  had  to  put  a  curb  upon  his  glib  tongue. 

He  strode  along  with  winged  heels, 
munching  his  sausage.  He  did  not  even  feel 
alarm  at  having  to  pass  at  nightfall  through 
the  woods  where  the  stream  had  made  a 
passage  for  itself  through  a  gorge  in  the 
basalt  rocks.  He  murmured  his  evening 
276 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

prayer,  and  concluded  it  with  the  pious  wish 
that  his  cousin  Shmul  Chayim  might  hap- 
pily enter  Gan-Eden. 

Now  he  saw  the  lights  of  Hersfeld  glim- 
mering. The  bell  in  the  church  tower  struck 
eight  o'clock.  He  inquired  for  the  house  of 
his  cousin,  and  took  in  its  situation  and  ap- 
pearance with  a  feeling  of  satisfaction. 

An  old  maid-servant  received  him  with 
the  information  that  the  sick  man  was  feel- 
ing very  badly,  and  might  not  see  anyone 
so  late  at  night.  She  showed  him  to  his 
room,  and  brought  him  a  cup  of  weak  coffee. 
Tobias,  weary  and  exhausted,  threw  himself 
on  the  bed,  but  excitement  kept  him  from  so 
much  as  closing  his  eyes. 

Morning  dawned.  A  heavy  fog  was 
drifting  down  from  an  overcast  sky,  and 
the  atmosphere,  despite  the  earliness  of  the 
hour,  was  as  oppressive  as  on  a  muggy  sum- 
mer day.  Tobias  expressed  the  desire  to 
see  the  sick  man.  The  old  woman  brought 
the  good  news  that  Shmul  Chayim  had  had 
276 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


a  very  good  night,  had  slept  some,  and  felt 
considerably  refreshed. 

"  Thank  God !  "  said  Tobias,  and  made  a 
wry  face. 

He  stepped  into  the  sick-room,  and  his 
cousin  stretched  out  his  hand  to  him — the 
patient  did  not  look  so  very  ill. 

"  Pardon  me,  Tobias,"  he  said,  "  for  hav- 
ing brought  you  over  here.  Such  an  apo- 
plectic attack  always  precedes  death,  and  I 
wanted  to  have  one  of  my  family  with  me, 
so  I  had  some  one  write  to  you  without 
Ricke's  knowledge. 

"  Why,  it  isn't  anything  so  dreadful," 
said  Tobias,  genuinely  distressed. 

"  Yes,  it's  wonderful  how  God  came  to 
my  aid.  Had  I  known  it,  I  should  have 
spared  you  the  trouble.  But  if  I  get  over 
this  spell,  I  won't  forget  your  kindness." 

He  wanted  to  say  some  more,  about 
Tobias's  remaining  and  making  himself 
comfortable,  but  old  Ricke  entered,  mumb- 
ling that  the  doctor's  orders  were  that  no  one 
277 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

should  speak  long  with  the  sick  man,  because 
he  would  hurt  himself,  and  she  would  once 
more  have  to  go  through  all  that  fright  and 
bother.  So  she  grumblingly  put  Tobias  out 
of  the  room.  Before  the  door  the  fat  coun- 
try doctor  confirmed  her  orders. 

"  In  fact,"  he  said,  "  you  can  return  home 
quite  at  ease  in  your  mind.  The  patient  is 
entirely  out  of  danger." 

Tobias  stood  alone  in  the  vestibule,  and 
murmured  to  himself : 

"  Well,  in  the  circumstances  I'd  best  see 
to  it  that  I  get  home  before  Shabbes !  " 

Mortified,  embittered,  and  deceived  of  his 
hopes,  he  stood  before  the  house  which  the 
night  before  had  seemed  so  alluring.  The 
fog  had  gathered  into  heavy,  threatening 
clouds.  Should  he  walk  home  on  foot — 
fifteen  miles?  Or  should  he  wait  for  the 
post-cart  which  would  take  him  near  his  vil- 
lage ?  That  would  consume  the  greater  part 
of  what  remained  to  him  of  his  fancied 
wealth.  He  touched  the  five  dollar  bill  with 
278 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


his  fingers,  and  determined  to  go  on  foot. 
At  the  same  time  he  wished  his  cousin  and 
Wolf  Breitenbach  were  in  hell. 

A  warm  wind  had  arisen,  and  sent  the 
dust  whirling.  The  ash-trees  along  the  road 
bent  and  shook,  and  the  bunches  of  red  ber- 
ries flew  through  the  dust.  It  was  impossi- 
ble to  see  where  he  was  stepping. 

"  And  fifteen  miles !  For  God's  sake !  A 
storm  can  come  along  and  kill  me.  Then 
Wolf  Breitenbach  will  surely  rejoice." 

At  that  moment  he  heard  the  rattle  of  a 
small  vehicle.  It  was  the  cart  carrying  the 
mail.  In  those  days  the  mail  was  still  trans- 
ported in  a  two-wheeled  wagon  drawn  by  an 
old  hack.  Behind  the  mail  box  was  a  space 
for  hay  and  a  sack  of  oats. 

"Stop!  Postillion!"  shouted  Tobias. 
"  What  must  I  pay  to  sit  behind  as  far  as 
Hof?" 

"  Well,  a  thaler  will  just  about  be  right 
considering  the  dust  and  the  weather." 

"Are  you  crazy,  Fritz?"  cried  Tobias. 
279 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  I'll  give  you  half  a  thaler,  and  not  another 
heller." 

"  Do  you  know,  Ike,"  rejoined  the  driver, 
"  you  and  I  didn't  use  to  herd  pigs  together 
for  you  to  be  calling  me  *  Fritz.'  And  if 
yon  don't  want  to  give  up  a  dollar,  peg  away 
on  foot !    Get  up !  " 

He  spurred  the  horse  on  with  the  whip, 
and  a  powerful  blast  hid  the  wagon  in  dust. 

"  Stop,"  cried  Tobias,  "  Wait  a  moment, 
Mr.  Postillion!  I'll  give  you  the  dollar, 
and  take  it  in  God's  name !  " 

He  climbed  over  the  wheel  with  difficulty, 
and  threw  himself  in  despair  on  the  straw 
behind  the  mail  box.  Creaking  and  wheez- 
ing the  cart  jolted  along  through  dust  and 
storm. 

After  a  while  Tobias  calmed  down  some- 
what, and  not  yet  having  said  his  morning 
prayers,  he  drew  out  the  Tefillin,  laid  them 
about  his  head  and  arm,  and  began  to  pray 
in  a  subdued  sing-song. 

"  That's  right,  Jew.  Just  pray  your  Jew- 
280 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


ish  *  Our  Father  \  If  the  storm  overtakes 
us  in  the  gorge,  we  may  not  get  off  with 
our  lives ! " 

Tobias  swayed  to  and  fro  still  more  vio- 
lently, and  put  even  greater  ardor  into  his 
prayers. 

The  clouds  had  rolled  into  black  masses. 
One  of  those  storms  was  approaching  which 
rage  most  furiously  at  the  time  of  the  equi- 
noxes. The  landscape  was  obscured  by 
darkness,  the  wind  howled  and  bent  the 
trees  across  the  road.  One  old  poplar  fell 
with  a  crash  right  in  front  of  the  wagon, 
and  the  horse  shied.  Not  a  drop  of  blood 
remained  in  Tobias  Hof*s  face.  Now  a 
rain  of  hailstones  rattled  on  their  heads. 
The  driver  drew  his  coat  over  his  head  with 
a  curse,  while  Tobias  crawled  deeper  under 
the  straw,  his  heart  beating  in  unison  with 
the  joggling  floor  of  the  cart. 

In  the  gorge  it  was  black  as  night.  The 
stream  swollen  by  the  downpour  roared 
weirdly,  the  lightning  flashed,  the  peals  of 
Ml 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

thunder  echoed  and  re-echoed  among  the 
walls  of  granite. 

"  Mr.  Postillion,"  whispered  Tobias, 
quaking  and  quivering,  "  are  we  across  ?  " 

"If  the  bridge  is  torn  away,"  the  driver 
growled  from  behind  his  coat  collar,  "  we 
must  go  through  the  water!  Damn  it! 
Why  did  I  load  myself  with  a  Jew  ?  " 

Tobias  felt  his  death  hour  had  come.  He 
began  to  mumble  the  confession  of  sins,  and 
at  the  naming  of  each  sin  he  gave  himself  a 
desperate  whack  on  his  breast.  Standing 
face  to  face  with  death,  he  became  honest 
with  himself.  He  searched  his  conscience, 
and  asked  himself  whether  he  had  really 
been  guilty  of  this  or  that  sin.  When  he 
came  to  "  dealing  unrighteously  in  trade  and 
traffic,"  his  unnaturally  inflated  geese  stared 
at  him  reproachfully,  and  when  he  had  to 
confess  to  "  arrogance,  obstinacy,  and 
hatred  of  his  neighbor,"  Wolf  Breitenbach 
stood  before  his  soul,  the  man  he  most  hated, 
the  man  who  had  aided  him,  the  man  who 
282 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


wanted  his  poor  child  as  a  wife,  his  poor 
child,  who  might  that  very  day  become  a 
helpless  orphan.  He  dealt  his  breast  even 
mightier  blows,  and  sincerely  begged  his  old 
friend  to  pardon  him. 

"  If  I  get  out  of  this  alive — "  he  cried 
aloud. 

"  The  devil  take  it !  "  the  driver  bawled. 
"  For  sure,  it's  gone  and  ripped  the  bridge 
away.  Now  weVe  got  to  get  the  cart 
through  the  water !  " 

The  flood  raged  hideously. 

Tobias  in  an  agony  of  fear  half  raised 
himself  and  clung  with  both  hands  to  the 
side  of  the  cart. 

"  God  Almighty!  "  he  gasped.  "  If  I  get 
out  of  this  alive,  I  swear,  I  swear,  I'll 
give  Wolf  Breitenbach  my  child,  I  myself 
will  offer  her  to  him,  and  I  will  beg  his 
pardon." 

With  eyes  starting  from  their  sockets  he 
awaited  the  effect  of  his  oath.  He  had  done 
the  one  thing  he  could  do.     Like  the  be- 

283 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

trothed  in  the  Temple,  he  had  offered  the 
Lord  a  dove  (Taubchen=Dove). 

The  cart  swayed  hither  and  thither  as  it 
creaked  through  the  stream.  Now  it 
reached  the  bank — ^the  gorge  opened  out, 
and  there  lay  a  streak  of  blue  heaven  over 
the  plain  of  Hof  and  Breitenbach. 

The  driver  threw  his  coat  collar  back. 

"  You  ought  to  thank  the  Lord,  Jew,"  he 
said. 

Without  retorting,  Tobias  gave  him  the 
dollar,  having  taken  the  precaution  to 
change  the  bill  at  the  station.  He  reached 
home  before  the  Sabbath. 

The  next  morning  he  entered  the  prayer 
meeting  room  with  solemn  mien.  He 
stepped  up  to  Wolf  Breitenbach,  and  said 
to  the  astonished  man : 

"  Have  me  called  up  to  the  Torah,  Rebbe 
Wolf.  I  want  to  bensh  gomel.  But  first 
I  want  to  beg  your  pardon  a  thousand  times 
if  I  ever  insulted  you." 

Wolf  Breitenbach  experienced  complete 
284 


TEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


satisfaction  in  this  public  apology.  Humil- 
ity, remarkable  to  say,  is  counted  a  cardi- 
nal virtue  by  the  Jews,  because  the  Bible 
calls  the  lawgiver  Moses  "  very  meek." 

When  Tobias  was  called  up  to  the  reading 
of  the  law,  and  had  pronounced  the  bless- 
ing upon  the  Torah,  he  added  in  a  loud 
voice  the  prayer  for  rescue  from  danger, 
and  to  the  amazement  of  the  congregation 
concluded  with  the  words  of  the  Psalm: 
"  I  will  pay  my  vows  unto  the  Lord,  yea,  in 
the  presence  of  all  his  people." 

After  the  service  everybody  crowded 
curiously  about  the  rescued  man.  But  he 
evaded  the  interrogators,  and  begged  Wolf 
Breitenbach  for  a  private  interview. 

"  Reb  Wolf,"  he  began  most  solemnly, 
"  you  sued  for  my  Taubchen.  I  give  her  to 
you,  if  you  still  want  her." 

"If  I  still  want  her?"  Wolfs  eyes 
flashed.    "  But  tell  me,  Reb  Tobias—" 

"Ask  me  nothing,"  Tobias  interrupted 
him.  *'  I've  been  ungrateful  to  you,  and  I 
285 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

swore  rd  make  it  all  good  again.  Now  a 
stone  has  been  lifted  from  my  heart,  because 
we're  good  friends  again." 

Wolf,  deeply  touched,  gave  Tobias  his 
hand. 

"  It  made  me  feel  very  bad,"  he  said, 
"  that  I  had  to  be  angry  with  an  old  friend. 
I  meant  well.  So  everything's  all  right 
again,  and  after  Succos  we  can  have  the 
wedding." 

He  invited  Tobias  to  the  Sabbath  meal, 
and  the  whole  village  of  Hof  rejoiced  over 
the  betrothal. 

Free  from  misgivings,  Taubchen  contin- 
ued to  work  and  to  laugh.  Sometimes  she 
listened  at  the  door  of  the  music  room  in 
order  to  rejoice  in  the  musical  progress  of 
her  friend.  The  higher  Meyer  climbed  on 
the  scale,  the  wider  gaped  her  mouth  and 
eyes,  and  when  the  famous  high  C  was 
reached,  she  clapped  her  hands  over  her 
head  in  delight. 

Meyer  had  sent  for  civilian's  clothes  from 

286 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


his  mother's  store,  and  himself  adjusted 
them  to  his  needs  in  the  intervals  between 
lessons.  As  his  military  career  had  left 
him  a  somewhat  stalwart  and  dignified  car- 
riage in  contrast  with  his  former  slovenly- 
bearing,  he  was  now  really  a  quite  accepta- 
ble young  man. 

In  a  few  months,  Taubchen  told  herself, 
his  voice  would  ring  from  the  choir,  and 
four  hundred  dollars  a  year  would  ring  in 
his  pockets. 

Taubchen  was  just  revolving  these  things 
in  her  mind,  and  with  her  hair-pin  had 
pulled  the  lamp-wick  higher  in  its  socket,  in 
order  to  let  the  light  shine  the  more  brightly 
on  her  happy  prospects,  when  she  was  sur- 
prised by  a  visit  from  her  father  at  this 
most  untimely  hour. 

There  was  something  solemn  in  Tobias 
Hof's  manner  when  he  seated  himself  at 
the  hearth,  and  gave  an  account  of  his  jour- 
ney, summoning  all  the  shiverings  and  shud- 
derings  of  his  lively  fancy  to  show  her  how 
287 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

he,  a  second  Robinson  Crusoe,  had  escaped 
shipwreck  only  through  a  miracle. 

Taubchen  listened  with  childlike  sympa- 
thy, and  expressed  sincere  regret  at  cousin 
Shmul  Chayim's  illness.  Thinking  the  nar- 
rative had  come  to  an  end,  she  wanted  to 
resume  her  work  in  the  kitchen ;  but  Tobias 
arose,  and  announced  with  all  paternal  au- 
thority : 

"  Taubchen,  my  child,  you  will  give  your 
madam  notice  and  quit  her  service.  Just 
tell  her  right  away,  so  she  can  look  for  some- 
one else." 

Taubchen  stared  at  him. 

"  Do  you  know  why  ?  "  he  continued.  "  I 
told  Wolf  Breitenbach  that  if  he  really 
wants  you,  Fll  give  you  to  him.  He  wants 
you,  and  the  wedding  is  to  take  place  after 
Succos." 

"  Papa,  are  you  crazy  ?  "  cried  Taubchen, 
and  forced  herself  to  laugh.     "  Wolf  Brei- 
tenbach is  old  enough  to  be  my  grandfather. 
You're  making  fun  of  me,  aren't  you  ?  " 
2S8 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"  Child,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  so  God 
help  me,  I  am  serious.  You  know  when  he 
asked  me  for  you,  at  that  time  I  said  *  No ' 
right  off,  and  was  angry  with  him.  But 
when  I  was  in  such  awful  danger,  it  occurred 
to  me  how  wrong  I  was,  and  I  swore  I'd 
give  you  to  him.  And  you  know,  child,  if 
a  pious  man  undertakes  to  do  something,  he 
must  keep  his  word." 

Taubchen  stood  there  as  if  struck  by  light- 
ning. Every  drop  of  blood  left  her  face, 
and  her  heart  hammered  and  hammered 
until  she  could  scarcely  breathe. 

"  Be  sensible,  my  child,"  Tobias  contin- 
ued, "  and  think  it  over.  I  have  nothing, 
you  have  nothing,  and  Wolf  Breitenbach  is 
a  made  man.  Imagine  he's  young!  What 
difference  does  it  make  to  you?  He's  fond 
of  you,  and  you  must  get  used  to  him,  be- 
cause the  salvation  of  my  soul  depends  upon 
my  doing  what  I  swore  I  should.  You're  a 
good  child,  you  won't  stand  in  the  way  of 
your  father's  salvation." 
289 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Taubchen  burst  into  convulsive  sobs.  Her 
whole  body  was  shaken,  and  she  sank  on 
the  hearth,  hiding  her  eyes  in  her  hands. 

Meyer,  who  was  in  the  next  room,  must 
have  heard  the  sobbing,  for  he  came  running 
in.  When  Taubchen  saw  him,  she  forgot 
her  father's  presence,  and  threw  herself  on 
Meyer's  breast,  putting  her  arms  about  his 
neck. 

"  Meyer,  Meyer,"  she  cried,  continuing  to 
sob,  "  I  am  to  marry  Wolf  Breitenbach — 
my  father  swore  I  should." 

Meyer  held  his  hand  protectingly  over 
the  trembling  girl's  head. 

"  What  have  you  to  mix  in  for?  "  Tobias 
burst  out  in  irritation. 

But  Meyer  first  of  all  sought  to  soothe 
the  girl. 

"  Be  quiet.  Your  father  loves  you,  and 
won't  force  you  against  your  will.  If  he 
was  too  quick  in  making  an  oath,  he  can  be 
absolved  in  the  presence  of  three  witnesses. 
I  understand  so  much  of  the  law  myself." 
290 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"  You  understand  nothing !  "  screamed 
Tobias.  "  Is  it  being  too  quick,  if  you  have 
to  wade  through  a  river  with  the  water  up 
to  your  ears,  and  the  thunder  and  lightning 
are  as  at  the  flood?  Before  the  Torah  I 
thanked  God  Almighty  for  having  saved  me, 
and  before  the  Torah  I  swore  I'd  give  Wolf 
Breitenbach  my  child.  And  now  you're 
trying  to  keep  her,  when  you  yourself  want 
to  pray  at  the  altar  to  God  Almighty.  You 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself!"  He 
turned  to  Taubchen.  "  YouVe  always  been 
a  good  child,  a  pious  child," — he  put  all  the 
feeling  he  possessed  into  his  voice.  Con- 
sider, Fm  an  old  man,  and  to-morrow  I  may 
die.  How  could  I  step  before  God  and  your 
mother,  peace  be  with  her,  with  such  a  sin 
upon  my  soul?  Isn't  it  so,  Taubchen,  you 
understand,  you  see  what  it  means — and 
when  Wolf  Breitenbach  comes,  you'll  know 
what  you  have  to  do  ?  " 

Taubchen  nodded  mutely,  and  the  old 
man  left,  reassured. 

291 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Meyer  wanted  to  remain,  but  Taubchen 
waved  to  him  to  go.  She  went  mechanically 
about  the  kitchen  work  still  undone,  looked 
after  the  child  to  see  if  it  was  sleeping 
quietly,  then  threw  herself  on  her  bed  with- 
out undressing,  and  pressed  the  pillow  over 
her  head.  Feverish  visions  passed  before 
her  eyes.  She  saw  Meyer  standing  next  to 
her  in  bridegroom's  attire,  with  the  silver 
marriage  girdle  about  him.  His  long  face 
smiled  at  her  kindly.  But  still  smiling  it 
grew  broader  and  broader,  his  whole  figure 
swelled,  and  the  girdle  turned  into  the  old 
leather  money-belt  that  Wolf  Breitenbach 
wore  around  his  body,  and  the  gray  eyes  of 
the  corpulent  old  man  blinked  at  her  lust- 
fully. She  drew  the  pillow  still  closer  about 
her  eyes.  But  now  she  clearly  heard  the 
melody  of  the  new  Lecho  Dodi,  and  in  be- 
tween the  voice  of  her  father  shrieking: 

"  Don't  keep  me  from  Gan-Eden !  Don't 
keep  me  from  Gan-Eden !  " 

Next  morning,  when  Mrs.  Dinchen  found 

292 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


no  one  in  the  kitchen,  she  stepped  into  Taub- 
chen's  room,  and  discovered  the  girl  lying 
there  agitated  and  feverish. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked. 
Taubchen  only  shook  her  head,  and  said: 
"  Fm  going  to  get  up  and  work." 
"  No,  no,  you  mustn't,"  said  the  good 
woman.    "  You  must  stay  in  bed,  and  drink 
camomile  tea,  else  you  might  get  a  fever  in 
earnest.     I'll  look  after  the  kitchen  myself 
to-day,  and  I'll  take  the  child  to  Rav's  Mine 
to  play  there  a  few  hours. 

Taubchen  obeyed.  All  her  limbs  seemed 
to  be  broken.  She  fell  asleep.  A  little  be- 
fore noon  Wolf  Breitenbach  came  to  the 
apartment,  freshly  shaved  and  adorned  with 
a  silver  watch-chain  and  seal  draped  across 
his  broad  abdomen. 

"  Taubchen  is  sick,"  Mrs.  Hornstein  an- 
nounced when  he  inquired  for  the  girl.  "  I 
hope  not  seriously.  Her  father  was  here 
last  night,  and  the  poor  child  must  have 
suffered  some  great  distress." 
293 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Mr.  Breitenbach  departed  with  a  very 
long  face. 

Toward  evening  Taubchen  arose  from 
bed.  The  mention  of  Rav's  Mine's  name  in 
the  morning  had  awakened  a  dim  thought 
in  the  girl's  soul,  which  now  brightened  into 
a  fixed  resolve.  She  asked  for  permission 
to  get  a  whiff  of  fresh  air,  saying  it  would 
instantly  make  her  better.  She  put  a  knitted 
scarf  about  her  head,  and  left.  This  was 
the  right  way,  she  assured  herself.  Mine  was 
the  one  person  with  whom  she  could  take 
counsel. 

Though  Mine  since  the  death  of  the  old 
Rav  lived  a  more  retired  life  than  ever,  she 
maintained  faithful  and  active  interest  in 
her  protege. 

"  She's  a  noble  girl,  a  fine  Jewess,  a  pious 
soul!  "  Taubchen  said  to  herself.  "  I'll  tell 
her  everything  in  my  heart,  and  whatever 
advice  she  gives  me,  God  knows  I'll  follow 
it." 

For  an  hour  she  sat  with  her  old  friend 

294 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


pouring  out  her  whole  heart.  Nor  did  she 
conceal  how  much  she  hked  Long  Meyer, 
though  her  cheeks  burned  still  redder  at  the 
confession.  When  she  repeated  her  father's 
last  words,  and  his  allusion  to  the  hour  of 
his  death,  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  Fm  not  a  bad  child !  "  she  cried  repeat- 
edly, and  threw  herself  on  the  breast  of  her 
friend,  who  was  deeply  touched. 

"  My  little  Taubchen,"  said  Mine,  caress- 
ingly, "  how  glad  I  should  be  if  I  could  help 
you.  If  my  good  father  were  alive,  he 
could  tell  us  about  such  a  solemn  oath,  and 
how  to  be  absolved  from  it.  But  you  know 
we  have  no  Rav  now,  and  those  rabbis  who 
come  in  from  the  country  stick  to  the  dead 
letter  of  the  law.  They  don't  concern  them- 
selves with  the  live  feelings  of  the  heart. 
But  my  own  simple  understanding  shows 
me  a  way  out.  If  your  father  were  to  go  to 
Mr.  Breitenbach — or  you  yourself — and  ask 
him  to  give  you  up  of  his  own  accord,  and 
absolve — " 

295 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  My  father  will  never  do  it,  never !  He's 
too  proud.  And  may  I  humble  my  father 
before  Wolf  Breitenbach?  Can  you  advise 
me  to?" 

"  No,  my  dear  good  little  Taubchen," — 
Mine  kissed  her — "  it  is  better  to  suffer  than 
to  give  pain.  But  tell  me  something — do  you 
really  hate  Wolf  Breitenbach  so  very 
much  ?  " 

"God  forbid,"  said  Taubchen,  then 
dropped  her  lids.  "If  only  I  didn't  like 
Meyer  so  much !  " 

Her  voice  sank  to  a  whisper,  and  she 
blushed. 

"Did  you  promise  yourself  to  Meyer?" 

Taubchen  shook  her  head. 

"  We  never  spoke  of  anything  like  that, 
but  I  know  how  much  he  likes  me." 

Tears  gathered  in  Mine's  eyes. 

"  My  good  child,  you're  not  the  only  one 
who  cannot  attain  the  dream  of  her  heart. 
Don't  you  know  we  women  are  born  to  re- 
nounce ?  There  is  some  blessedness,  too,  in 
296 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


fulfilling  this  duty.    Do  you  know  the  story 
of  Jephthah's  daughter?  " 

"  No." 

"  Her  father,  while  engaged  in  a  war, 
swore  he  would  sacrifice  the  first  thing  that 
came  to  meet  him  if  he  returned  victorious. 
His  daughter  came,  his  one  child.  She  did 
not  murmur  at  her  fate,  but  willingly  gave 
herself  up  as  a  sacrifice.  Who  would  have 
known  of  her  if  she  had  been  happy?  Her 
sacrifice  sanctified  her,  and  after  the  lapse 
of  thousands  of  years  tears  are  still  shed  in 
her  behalf." 

"What  was  her  name?"  asked  Taub- 
chen,  smiling  behind  her  tears. 

"  Her  name  is  not  known — only  her  obe- 
dience." 

"  And  did  she  make  her  father  happy  ?  " 

"  At  least  she  wanted  to.  Who  may  ask 
whether  such  oaths  are  pleasing  to  the 
Lord?    The  story  is  told  in  the  Scriptures." 

Taubchen  arose  with  the  sensation  that 
she  had  grown  a  head  taller. 
297 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  Thank  you,  dear  Miss  Mine.  I  knew  I 
should  find  comfort  with  you.  And,  please, 
don't  be  angry  with  me."  Mine  kissed  her, 
and  Taubchen  went  home  feeling  eased. 

She  spoke  long  and  urgently  with  Meyer. 
The  good  fellow  gave  in  to  all  her  projects. 
She  told  her  father  to  transmit  her  excuses 
to  Wolf  Breitenbach  for  not  having  been 
able  to  receive  him,  and  tell  him  that  she 
herself  would  come  to  him  before  the  holi- 
days. Of  Mrs.  Dinchen  she  requested  two 
days'  leave,  on  the  plea  that  she  had  an  im- 
portant family  affair  to  settle. 

One  mild  autumn  morning  she  passed 
through  the  Frankfort  Gate,  a  white  knitted 
shawl  about  her  shoulders,  a  black  trimmed 
hood  on  her  head,  and  a  large  red  umbrella 
in  her  hand.  At  the  toll-gate  Meyer  stood 
waiting.  Taubchen  was  not  surprised, 
though  not  a  word  had  been  said  in  regard 
to  an  appointment. 

"  I  won't  let  you  go  alone,"  he  said,  fall- 
ing in  with  her  pace. 

298 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"  Do  you  suppose  Hans  Ludwig  will  meet 
me?  "  said  she,  smiling. 

"  Heaven  knows  where  that  ruffian  is 
now,"  he  answered,  forcing  himself  to  smile 
also. 

They  marched  on,  Taubchen  taking  long 
strides  to  keep  step. 

"  Do  you  think  of  that  time  still  ?  It  was 
the  first  time  I  saw  you  had  courage." 

Meyer  sighed,  and  said  dolefully: 

"What's  the  use  of  courage,  if  you 
haven't  the  power  to  do  anything?  " 

Taubchen  did  not  answer.  For  an  hour 
they  walked  on  in  silence.  As  they  passed 
an  apple-tree,  which  stretched  its  heavily 
laden  branches  across  a  fence  into  the  road, 
a  ripe  apple  fell  at  their  feet.  Meyer  picked 
it  up. 

"  I  owe  you  an  apple  ever  since  that  time." 

"  You  must  take  a  bite  first." 

He  shook  his  head,  and  stuck  the  apple 
in  his  pocket.  They  reached  the  pasture  out- 
side their  village.  A  flock  of  geese  cack- 
299 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ling  in  the  dry  grass  whirred  apart  at  their 
approach.  Taubchen  tried  to  lure  them  to 
her. 

"  Shall  we  sing  the  Shir  ha-Ma'alos?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  like  singing,"  answered 
Meyer. 

He  stood  still,  and  the  geese  quieted  down. 
Taubchen  stepped  up  to  him,  and  saw  his 
eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  When  I  think  of  that  time—,"  he  said. 

Taubchen  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  But  we'll  remain  good  friends,  won't 
we,  Meyer  ?  "  she  besought  him  with  her 
dark  eyes. 

"  As  long  as  God  gives  us  life."  And  the 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

Taubchen's  eyes  grew  moist. 

"  Please,  please,  Meyer  dear,  don't  make 
my  heart  heavy.  You  promised  me,  and 
what  I'm  about  to  do  isn't  so  easy  for  me, 
anyhow." 

"  You're  right,  Taubchen,  my  love." 

They  continued  on  their  way,  and  when 
300 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


they  reached  the  village,  Taubchen  paused 
and  said : 

"  You  go  home  to  your  mother,  Meyer, 
and  tell  papa  I'm  coming  soon.  I'm  going 
first  to  my — to  Wolf  Breitenbach  to  tell  him 
Vm  here." 

Meyer  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  and 
walked  on  without  turning  around. 

At  the  door  of  Wolf  Breitenbach's  house 
Taubchen  paused  to  fetch  breath.  She  but- 
toned about  her  neck  the  ribbons  of  her 
hood,  which  lay  on  her  little  round  head  like 
a  wreath,  leaned  the  umbrella  in  a  corner 
of  the  vestibule,  and  knocked  softly  on  the 
door  to  the  room. 

"  Come  in,"  called  an  oily  voice. 

Wolf  Breitenbach  sat  in  the  twilight  in 
front  of  an  old  wooden  table,  sorting  copper 
and  silver  coins,  which  he  laid  in  two  wooden 
bowls.  At  the  sight  of  Taubchen,  he 
straightened  up  his  heavy  body  in  surprise. 

"  Well,  well,  Taubchen,  I'm  glad  to  see 
you.    Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

301 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  From  the  city,"  she  said  without  look- 
ing at  him.  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you  myself 
that  I'm  feeling  entirely  well  again." 

"  I  see  it — unbeschrieen!  "  he  cried,  sur- 
veying the  rosy  face  complacently.  The  au- 
tumn air  had  blown  its  fresh  breath  on  her 
cheeks,  and  covered  them  with  a  bloom  as 
on  a  ripe  plum. 

"  What  was  the  matter  with  vou,  at  any 
rate?" 

"  O  nothing.  I  needn't  have  stayed  in 
bed.  My  madam  made  too  much  of  my  sick- 
ness. She  shouldn't  have  frightened  you 
and  my  father.  And  so — I  haven't  seen  you 
since — so  I  came  to  tell  you  that  I  am  will- 
ing to  do  what  my  father  arranged  with 
you." 

"Did  your  father  force  you.'"'  Wolf 
asked  quickly,  with  a  searching  look. 

She  raised  her  large  eyes  to  his. 

"  I  wouldn't  allow  myself  to  be  forced. 
I  do  only  what  my  heart  tells  me  to  do." 

Breitenbach  shook  his  head. 
302 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


"  I  don't  believe  it,  Taubchen.  I'm  not 
such  an  old  fool  as  that.  Tell  me  truly, 
Taubchen,  I  disgust  you,  don't  I  ?  " 

"  God  forbid ! "  Taubchen  exclaimed 
heartily.  "  I  know  what  you've  always  done 
for  us,  and  I've  always  liked  you.  You 
came  right  after  my  father.  When  I  said 
the  Shema  Yisroel  before  going  to  sleep,  I 
always  added :  *  Dear  God,  keep  my  father 
from  getting  sick  and  Wolf  Breitenbach 
and—" 

She  stopped,  and  the  blood  mounted  to 
her  face. 

"Is  that  true,  Taubchen  Icve?"  cried 
Wolf,  evidently  touched. 

"Why  shouldn't  it  be  true?"  she  kept 
on  open-heartedly.  "  Only  it  surprised  me 
so  tremendously  that  you  wanted  me.  It 
seemed  to  me  like  marrying  my  own  father." 

She  smiled.  And  Wolf  Breitenbach  was 
silent,  taken  aback. 

"  So/'  he  said  after  a  pause,  "  that  was 
it?    And  nothing  else?  " 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Taubchen  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  There  is  something  else.  That's  the 
reason  I  came  to — to  speak  to  you  as  I 
speak  to  myself.  Because  I  can't  go  under 
the  Chuppe  with  you  without  telling  you — I 
mean  it  would  be  a  great  sin."  She  con- 
tinued hesitatingly :  "  You  know  Long 
Meyer,  Bule's  son,  has  always  been  a  good 
friend  of  mine,  and  while  he  was  a  soldier 
in  the  city  he  always  came  to  us,  and  learned 
to  sing  from  my  Mr.  Hornstein.  He  can 
sing  so  well  that  they've  made  him  cantor  in 
the  new  Temple.  And  I've  gotten  so  used 
to  him  I  must  think  of  him  all  the  time. 
If  I  become  your  wife,  you  can  rest  assured 
I'll  be  good  and  true.  I'll  take  care  of  you 
in  your  old  age  the  way  your  wife,  peace 
be  with  her,  took  care  of  you  when  you 
were  young.  I'll  promise  you,  too,  if  you 
want,  never  to  see  Meyer,  and  never  to 
speak  to  him.  But  I  can't  promise  you  I 
won't  think  of  him,  because  that  goes  be- 
yond my  strength." 

304 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


Tears  choked  her  voice. 

"There,"  she  said,  and  wiped  her  eyes, 
"  a  stone  has  been  lifted  from  my  heart.  If 
you  want  to  now,  the  marriage  can  take 
place." 

Wolf  had  listened  to  her  attentively. 
Something  was  evidently  stirring  in  his 
breast. 

"  You're  a  good  girl,"  he  said  in  a  voice 
betraying  emotion.  "  So  God  help  me, 
you're  a  wonderful  girl." 

"  Why  wonderful  ?  "  rejoined  Taubchen, 
smiling  in  spite  of  her  tears. 

"  I  see  now! "  cried  Wolf  flaring  up  and 
speaking  more  and  more  violently  to  hide 
his  real  feelings,  "  I  see!  You're  just  sacri- 
ficing yourself  because  your  father  swore 
an  oath.    Who  told  him  to  ?  " 

"  His  grateful  heart,  and  he's  not  killing 
me  the  way  Jephthah  killed  his  daughter. 
Why,  he's  giving  me  to  a  fine  man !  " 

At  this  Wolf  Breitenbach  was  completely 
disconcerted  The  allusion  to  Jephthah's 
305 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

daughter  struck  home,  and  he  turned  a  pur- 
plish red. 

"  So/'  he  shrieked,  "  so  he's  giving  you 
to  me  the  way  a  lamb  is  led  to  slaughter. 
And  why?  Because  the  water  came  up  to 
his  ears!  Otherwise  it  wouldn't  have  been 
an  honor  for  him  to  have  Wolf  Breitenbach 
for  a  son-in-law.  O,  I  know  Tobias  Hof. 
I  know  him,  every  inch  of  him." 

"  No,  you  don't  know  him,"  cried  Taub- 
chen,  taking  her  father's  part  with  filial 
warmth.  "  He  knows  about  me,  but  he  also 
knows  what  he  owes  you,  and  what  he  owes 
God  Almighty.  And  he  doesn't  want  to  be 
absolved  from  his  oath — which  he  could  be 
— ^because  he  thinks  he  would  lose  the  salva- 
tion of  his  soul  if  he  were  to  wound  his  old 
friend  and  benefactor." 

Breitenbach  drew  himself  up  to  his  full 
height,  and  summoned  all  his  pride.  Tobias 
Hof  wanted  to  eclipse  him  in  magnanimity, 
and  put  him  to  shame ! 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  quietly.  "  He  swore 
806 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


he'd  give  you  to  me,  and  I  take  you."  He 
cast  a  look  at  Taubchen.  She  met  his  glance 
firmly  and  calmly.  He  shoved  the  bowls  of 
money  into  the  drawer,  locked  it,  and 
reached  for  his  cap. 

"  Come,"  he  said  curtly. 

"Whereto?" 

"To  your   father.     We  must  tell   him 
everything's  settled." 

They  walked  through  the  long  village  with- 
out speaking.  On  nearing  Tobias  Hof's  hut 
the  sound  of  a  man's  clear  voice  rang  power- 
fully through  the  darkening  night. 

"What's  that?" 

Taubchen  smiled. 

"  That's  Meyer's  voice.    He's  singing  the 
new  Lecho  Dodi  to  his  mother." 

Now  they  could  distinctly  hear  the  words : 

"  Come,  O  friend,  to  welcome  the  bride." 

Wolf     Breitenbach     smiled     also,     and 
growled, 

"Remarkable!" 

The  voice  broke  off  at  the  sound  of  the 

307 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

knocking.  When  the  new-comers  entered, 
Meyer  arose  in  embarrassment,  and  wanted 
to  slip  away.  Old  Bule  crouched  at  the 
hearth  coughing. 

"  Welcome,  Reb  Wolf,"  cried  Tobias,  ris- 
ing. He  wanted  to  kiss  Taubchen,  but  Wolf 
stretched  out  his  arm  in  front  of  her,  and 
said: 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  She  belongs  to 
me.     Everything's  settled !  " 

For  a  moment  he  gloated  over  everybody's 
stupefaction. 

"  Isn't  it  so  ?  You  swore,  Reb  Tobias, 
you  swore  you'd  give  me  your  child,  and  I 
take  her !  " 

He  raised  his  voice. 

"  And  you  are  free  of  your  oath,  isn't  it 
so? 

Tobias  nodded  in  assent. 

"'  But  now  that  she  belongs  to  me,  I  can 
do  with  her  what  I  want,  can't  I  ?  Then  I'll 
give  her  to  this  long — this  long  cantor  here ! 
Why  are  you  holding  your  mouth  open  ?  " 

308 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


he  laughed,  seeing  Meyer  staring  at  him 
stupidly.  "  Don't  you  want  her  because  she 
has  nothing?  I  give  my  child  five  hundred 
dollars  on  the  spot,  and  when  I  die  she'll 
get  the  rest.  Wolf  Breitenbach  doesn't  do 
things  by  halves." 

He  planted  himself  squarely  in  the  full 
consciousness  of  his  nobility.  But  realizing 
that  all  were  looking  at  him  as  if  he  were 
merely  joking,  he  took  Taubchen  and  laid 
her  on  the  breast  of  her  lover,  who  seemed 
to  be  intoxicated. 

"  I  call  God  to  witness  that  what  I  say  is 
Toras  Moshe!" 

The  general  tension  was  relaxed.  Every- 
body talked  and  sobbed  and  laughed  and 
embraced.  Even  Tobias  forgave  the  magna- 
nimity of  his  friend,  and  emitted  sibilant 
sounds  of  admiration. 

Meyer  tried  to  stammer  his  thanks.  Wolf 
interrupted  with  a  laugh, 

"  Cantor,  sing  what  you  have  to  say  to 
me. 

309 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Meyer  utterly  bewildered  took  him  at  his 
word,  and  began  to  sing: 

"  Come,  O  friend,  to  welcome  the  bride." 

The  walls  of  the  little  room  shook  with 
the  thunderous  tones,  as  once  the  walls  of 
Jericho. 

Taubchen  laughed  for  joy,  while  the  tears 
streamed  down  her  cheeks. 

"  Has  a  stone  been  lifted  from  your 
heart?  "  Wolf  asked  her  in  an  aside.  And 
she  answered: 

"  From  to-day  on  I'll  pray  for  you  first, 
then  for  my  father,  then  for  him." 

Late  in  the  autumn  the  new  Temple  was 
"dedicated,  and  the  new  cantor,  Mr.  Betten- 
hausen,  gave  general  satisfaction  at  his  first 
appearance.  Soon  after,  the  wedding  was 
celebrated,  the  first  in  the  new  Temple. 
Mrs.  Dinchen  led  Taubchen  to  the  altar, 
because  old  Bule  lay  sick  in  bed.  She  had 
bestowed  the  luxury  of  an  open  hansom 
upon  the  bridal  couple,  and  while  they  were 
driving  through  the  streets,  they  noticed  a 
810 


JEPHTHAH'S  DAUGHTER 


dirty,  drunken  lout,  loading  beer  barrels 
on  a  wagon  in  front  of  the  "  Stockholm.'* 
He  looked  up  to  admire  the  spruce  couple. 
Did  he  recognize  them?  It  was  Hans  Lud- 
wig. 

Taubchen  invited  her  old  father  to  live 
with  her  and  Meyer,  because  Mrs.  Bule, 
deeply  mourned  by  her  son,  passed  away 
soon  after  the  wedding.  He  refused.  He 
did  not  want  to  be  a  burden  upon  his  chil- 
dren. But  when  a  year  later  his  cousin 
Shmul  Chayim  actually  died,  and  bequeathed 
him  a  tidy  sum,  he  felt  justified  in  moving 
to  the  city.  There  he  lives  with  his  chil- 
dren, and  whittles  Trended  for  his  round- 
cheeked  grandchildren. 


311 


RASCHELCHEN 


RASCHELCHEN 

When  Raschelchen  scurried  through  the 
streets,  hugging  the  walls  of  the  houses,  and 
suddenly  disappeared  inside  some  vestibule, 
the  people  who  passed  by  shuddered,  and 
threw  a  melancholy  glance  at  the  house  she 
had  entered.  They  knew  that  a  girl  in  the 
bloom  of  youth,  or  a  happy  mother,  or  a 
worthy  old  woman  lay  upon  her  deathbed. 
For  death  was  the  one  event  that  drew 
Raschelchen  from  her  room  in  the  village 
near  the  cemetery.  She  came  forth  only  to 
recite  the  prayers  for  the  dead  and  wash  and 
dress  the  bodies.  She  was  known  in  the 
community  as  the  "  bird  of  dealli,"  announ- 
cing the  end  as  the  petrel  announces  the 
storm.  She  seemed  to  place  upon  the  house 
doors  the  mysterious  token  by  which  the 
angel  of  death  might  know  where  to  enter. 
316 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Raschelchen  was  an  old  woman  of  sev- 
enty; at  least,  so  she  appeared.  Her  figure 
was  small  and  bent.  A  black  band,  accord- 
ing to  the  Jewish  custom,  carefully  held  in 
the  hair  over  her  pale,  furrowed  counte- 
nance, and  a  linen  cap  trimmed  with  faded 
yellow  ribbons  was  her  only  head-covering 
even  in  winter.  Her  shrivelled  hand  clasped 
an  old  silk  shawl  over  her  breast,  its  color 
showing  tones  of  green,  yellow,  and  gray. 
A  constant  nodding  of  her  head  gave  her  the 
appearance  of  speaking  to  herself.  She 
looked  at  nobody  and  greeted  nobody,  as  if 
aware  that  her  salutation  was  taken  as  an 
ill-omen.  Yet  her  glance  had  nothing  of 
that  piercing  quality  commonly  ascribed  to 
an  Ayin  hora.  Her  eyes  were  as  though 
covered  with  a  gray  veil,  a  veil  woven  of 
tears. 

I  noticed  that  Raschelchen  when  gliding 

past  the  walls  of  the  houses  on  her  way  to 

the  dying  carried  flowers  carefully  hidden 

under  her  shawl.     Once,  though  it  was  in 

316 


RASCHELCHEN 


the  winter  time,  I  saw  her  steal  furtively 
into  the  hothouse  and  buy  some  pale  tea- 
roses.  She  looked  at  them  smiling  and 
nodding,  believing  herself  unobserved,  and 
then  hid  them  anxiously  under  her  shawl. 
I  recollected  the  fact  that  a  young  girl  in 
the  community  had  just  died.  Since  the 
Jewish  rite,  however,  forbids  the  adornment 
of  the  dead  with  flowers,  and  since,  so  far 
as  I  knew,  Raschelchen  had  scarcely  any 
intercourse  with  the  living,  I  was  at  a  loss 
to  account  for  her  act. 

Soon  after  a  strange  and  gruesome  spec- 
tacle gave  me  the  explanation. 

Death  had  again  bereft  Joel  Reinach,  the 
long-suffering,  of  one  of  his  beautiful 
daughters.  As  I  was  among  the  privileged 
few  invited  on  the  great  holidays  to  make 
up  the  Minyan  in  the  noble  old  man's  green- 
curtained  room,  I  felt  impelled  to  attend  the 
funeral  of  his  daughter,  a  charming  girl  cut 
off  in  the  flower  of  her  youth.  The  autumn 
before  she  had  been  rosy  with  health,  and 
317 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

now,  at  the  approach  of  spring,  she  had  to 
offer  up  the  spring  of  her  own  days. 

The  Chevre  Kadishe  had  not  yet  ar- 
rived, when  with  a  heavy  heart  I  ascended 
the  soft-carpeted  stairway.  There  were  only 
a  few  persons  in  the  waiting-room,  standing 
about  in  silence.  I  withdrew  to  the  stairway 
landing,  and  as  I  leaned  against  the  balus- 
trade, I  saw  the  two  younger  daughters 
dressed  in  black  walk  with  drooping  eyes 
to  the  door  of  a  side  room.  One  of  them 
laid  a  shy,  trembling  hand  upon  the  knob, 
and  opened  the  door.  An  oppressive  odor 
of  wax  candles  and  frankincense  assailed 
the  nostrils,  and  the  girls  instinctively  left 
the  door  ajar.  In  the  farther  end  of  the 
room,  between  two  tall  burning  candles  in 
black  candlesticks,  stood  the  open  coffin  cov- 
ered with  a  pall.  The  girls  bent  down  and 
wanted  to  pull  off  the  cover  in  order  to  take 
a  last  look  at  the  features  of  their  beloved 
sister,  but  Raschelchen  emerged  from  the 
dark  depths  of  the  room,  and  warded  them 
318 


RASCHELCHEN 

off,  shaking  her  head.  Words  were  ex- 
changed which  I  could  not  hear.  Then  the 
old  woman  took  a  cotton  thread  and  began 
to  measure  them  from  head  to  foot.  The 
girls  resisted,  but  she  paid  no  heed  to  them, 
and  like  one  of  the  Parcse  cut  the  thread 
over  their  heads  with  a  pair  of  shears. 

I  do  not  know  what  the  underlying 
thought  of  this  Jewish  custom  is.  The  liv- 
ing are  not  permitted  to  put  any  token  of 
love  into  the  graves  of  the  dead,  such  as  a 
flower  or  a  ring,  so  that  the  longing  soul 
should  not  draw  after  it  those  who  remain 
behind.  But  the  measure  of  younger  rela- 
tives is  placed  into  the  coffin,  apparently  as 
a  symbol  of  ransora 

The  girls  hid  their  faces,  and  knelt  at  the 
foot  of  the  coffin.  The  old  woman,  think- 
ing herself  unobserved,  quickly  put  the 
shears  to  her  own  head,  cut  off  a  lock  of  her 
silvery  white  hair  from  under  her  cap,  and 
carefully  laid  it  beside  the  little  rolls  of  the 
"  measurements."  Next  she  pulled  back  the 
819 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

pall  a  little  way,  and,  groping  delicately  with 
her  fingers,  placed  the  love-token  under  the 
head  of  the  dead.  This  done,  she  bent  over 
close  to  the  ear  of  the  body,  and  began  to 
murmur  prayers  or  greetings,  nodding  her 
head  and  raising  her  left  hand,  as  if  beckon- 
ing yearningly  to  Heaven. 

The  arrival  of  the  Chevre  roused  her. 
She  rose  quickly,  the  wrinkles  of  her  face 
washed  by  tears.  The  girls  slipped  from 
the  room  silently.  There  was  a  murmur  of 
monotonous  prayers,  mingled  with  the  dull 
hammer  strokes  on  the  lid  of  the  coffin. 
Then  the  mournful  procession  started  to 
leave  the  house.  The  sisters  leaned  their 
foreheads  upon  the  window  panes,  and  wept 
their  last  farewell  into  their  white  handker- 
chiefs. The  old  father  remained  locked  up 
in  his  room. 

I  must  confess,  my  thoughts  were  neither 

with  the  mourners  nor  with  the  dead  girl. 

My  mind  dwelt  upon  the  strange,  uncanny 

old  woman.     The  fear    I  had  once  expe- 

320 


RASCHELCHEN 


rienced  was  changed  into  profound  pity.  I 
felt  that  her  flowers  as  well  as  her  tears 
were  not  meant  for  the  strangers.  She  must 
have  sent  the  lock  of  her  silvery  hair  into 
the  grave,  because  she  had  no  fear  of  being 
dragged  down  to  the  realm  of  the  shades, 
but  rather  longed  with  her  whole  being  to 
depart  to  the  other  world. 

I  set  about  trying  to  find  out  the  story 
of  Raschelchen's  life,  and  I  shall  here  en- 
deavor to  recount  what  I  learned  from  my 
mother  and  my  old  aunt  Channe,  who  is  the 
chronicler  of  the  community. 

During  the  Westphalian  period,  when  Je- 
rome Bonaparte  resided  in  Wilhelmshohe, 
which  had  to  be  called  Napoleonshohe,  all 
the  fashions  of  the  Empire  came  in  vogue  in 
our  city.  Frenchmen  set  up  brilliant  shops, 
French  tailors  made  the  short-waisted  Em- 
pire gowns,  and  French  hair-dressers  undid 
the  German  plaits,  curled  little  locks,  and 
bound  them  with  ribbons  d  Vimperatrice, 
321 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

At  that  time  a  Jewish  hair-dresser  came 
into  the  community,  Rachel  by  name.  She 
pronounced  it,  of  course,  the  French  way, 
Raschell,  and  as  she  was  a  dainty,  agile 
little  body,  the  German  diminutive  was  soon 
appended;  which  gave  rise  to  the  name 
Raschelchen.  She  told  everybody  in  the 
worst  of  French  with  a  strong  Jewish  into- 
nation :     ''  Je  suis  de  Metz! '' 

Mon  pere,  she  said,  was  cantor  in  the 
great  synagogue,  mon  mari.  Monsieur  Pic- 
card,  was  in  the  great  army,  she  herself  was 
travelling  only  for  pleasure,  and  was  hair- 
dressing  only  pour  passer  le  temps.  She  was 
une  femme  honnete  and  tres  religieuse! 
Yet  she  did  not  wear  her  hair  concealed 
after  the  manner  of  Jewish  women,  but 
puffed  up  in  two  little  locks  a  la  Titus;  and 
two  lively  black  eyes  flashed  from  her  little 
brown  face.  She  ran  about  to  all  the  ladies, 
and  had  much  to  do  among  the  military 
officers  and  the  staff  of  generals,  and  mon 
mari  was  her  every  third  word. 

322 


RASCHELCHEN 


But  no  one  cared  much  for  her  mari,  and 
no  deep  scrutiny  was  made  into  her  anteced- 
ents, for  she  soon  proved  herself  so  excel- 
lent in  her  art  that  all  the  women  and  girls 
wanted  to  appear  at  the  balls  in  the  club 
house  with  their  hair  done  up  by  Raschel- 
chen.  Barring  her  frequent  visits  to  the  mil- 
itary men,  not  even  the  sharpest  tongues 
could  find  any  causef for  cavilling  at  her. 

When  the  French  period  came  to  an  end, 
she  returned  home,  as  she  said,  to  visit  her 
father;  her  mari  she  no  longer  mentioned. 
But  she  came  back  within  a  few  months. 
She  had  lost  her  father,  and  had  been  unable 
to  find  her  husband.  The  sprightly  girl  had 
changed  into  a  quiet  little  woman.  A  four- 
year-old  daughter  named  Reine  was  all  she 
brought  with  her  from  her  home. 

Times  had  changed.  Women  now  wore 
plain  dresses  and  German  plaits  a  la  Ktir- 
prinzess.  The  fashion  veered  from  dances 
and  masquerade  balls  to  sewing  circles  and 
devotional  exercises. 

S28 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

The  admission  of  new  Jews  into  the  com- 
munity was  rendered  very  difficult,  in  fact, 
was  entirely  prohibited  by  the  police,  unless 
they  could  prove  they  had  ample  means  of 
subsistence. 

Raschelchen  was  hard  put  to  it,  but  she 
was  backed  by  a  successful  mediator,  little 
blond  Reine,  a  most  beautiful  child.  The 
Hebrew  name  Malke,  in  English  Regina,  in 
French  Reine,  was  immediately  translated 
into  Reinchen  (pure),  and  the  appellation 
suited  the  rosy,  limpid  little  creature  un- 
qualifiedly. 

She  looked  pure  and  dainty  as  a  porce- 
lain princess,  and  hung  upon  the  arm  of  her 
mother  with  a  smile  meant  for  the  whole 
world.  Women  and  girls  stopped  on  the 
street  to  fondle  her  when  she  greeted  them 
in  the  jargon  of  her  mother.  In  a  short 
time  she  had  so  entirely  come  to  be  regarded 
as  the  community's  own  that  everybody  en- 
ergetically strove  to  find  a  position  for  Ra- 
schelchen. One  was  finally  secured. 
324 


RASCHELCHEN 


An  attendant  was  needed  in  the  women's 
bathhouse.  The  ritual  bath  was  in  the  base- 
ment of  the  old  synagogue,  and  in  the  third 
story  of  the  same  building  was  a  dilapidated 
little  room,  which  the  community  had  re- 
solved to  put  into  repair.  Here  Raschel- 
chen  was  installed.  She  fulfilled  her  duties 
conscientiously.  To  eke  out  her  salary,  she 
did  a  little  trading  in  old  lace,  and  on  spe- 
cial occasions  she  tried  her  old  art  upon  the 
shiny,  greasy  hair  of  her  neighbors. 

Reinchen  grew  up  in  this  ruin  like  a  rose 
by  the  side  of  a  decayed  wall,  pampered  by 
a  mother's  idolatrous  love.  Despite  the 
mouldiness  of  the  little  room  in  this  house 
resting  upon  weather-worn  beams,  despite 
the  darkness  of  the  narrow  little  street, 
where  the  sun  merely  grazed  the  gables  of 
the  roofs,  the  girl  shone  as  with  the  light  of 
inward  sunshine.  She  skipped  about  so 
daintily  in  her  golden-hued  kid  shoes,  over 
the  filthy,  rough  pavement  of  the  street, 
that  you  might  have  supposed  she  was  glid- 
325 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ing  over  the  parquetry  floor  of  a  dancing 
hall.  Her  dress  had  to  be  spotless,  and  a 
colored  ribbon  always  bound  her  hair,  for 
the  women  and  girls  loaded  her  with  gifts 
of  ribbons  and  ornaments. 

As  for  Raschelchen,  even  in  the  winter 
time  she  had  no  wrap  except  her  silk  shawl 
caca  dauphin  J  a  relic  of  better  times  brought 
from  Metz.  But  she  would  not  have  it 
otherwise.  She  would  have  been  mortified, 
had  the  presents  been  given  her  instead  of 
her  "blessed  Reinchen."  She  regarded  the 
child  with  a  mother's  ecstasy,  and  would 
not  for  the  world  have  changed  places  with 
Mrs.  Goldschmidt  or  Mrs.  Feidel,  the  rich- 
est women  in  the  community. 

By  the  time  Reinchen  reached  her  twelfth 
year  it  was  not  her  beauty  alone  that  at- 
tracted general  attention.  She  displayed  re- 
markable musical  talent.  Her  voice,  clear 
as  a  bell,  penetrated  through  the  window 
of  the  damp  room,  and  reached  the  street 
like  the  warbling  of  a  canary  bird.  She 
326 


RASCHELCHEN 


needed  to  hear  a  melody  but  once  to  be  able 
to  repeat  it.  Passers-by  looked  up  and 
stopped  to  hear  "  the  child  "  sing. 

"  Wait,  I'll  give  you  something/'  said 
the  stout  woman  who  peddled  second-hand 
wares  in  the  dilapidated  vestibule  of  the 
synagogue. 

After  rummaging  through  her  old  frip- 
pery, she  pulled  out  a  cracked  violin,  and 
handed  it  to  the  child. 

Reinchen  polished  both  the  violin  and  the 
bow  until  they  shone  neat  as  a  row  of  new 
pins,  then  asked  her  mother  to  buy  her 
strings.  Though  she  had  never  before  had 
such  an  instrument  in  her  hand,  she  adjusted 
and  tuned  the  strings  with  an  accurate  ear, 
and  soon  was  able  to  play  accompaniments 
to  the  airs  she  always  sang. 

Her  mother  listened  in  amazement,  and 
nodded  her  head. 

Once  while  Reinchen  was  standing  by  the 
window,  her  attempts  upon  the  cracked  in- 
strument were  heard  by  a  violin  player  in 
327 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  orchestra  of  the  court  theatre,  Christian 
Engelbrecht,  the  son  of  the  German  tailor 
across  the  street,  who  patched  up  old  clothes. 
He  beckoned  to  her,  and  offered  her  his 
instrument  to  play  upon  and  himself  as  a 
teacher. 

Thus  Reinchen  began  to  study  under 
young  Engelbrecht,  who  could  not  find 
words  enough  to  express  his  admiration  of 
the  girl's  rare  talent.  He  came  to  her  every 
day,  slighting  his  other  lessons,  and  brought 
along  with  him  his  own  violin  and  notes. 
Reinchen  learned  so  readily  that  she  was 
soon  able  to  read  the  most  difficult  pieces  at 
sight. 

Whole  evenings  at  a  time  Raschelchen 
sat  in  the  low  little  room  lighted  by  a  tallow 
dip,  and  ascended  to  Heaven  on  the  scales 
and  arpeggios  coaxed  from  the  violin  as  on 
a  Jacob's-ladder.  She  nodded  time  with  her 
head,  shook  it  in  amazement  when  the 
strings  trilled  under  the  rosy  finger  tips  of 
her  "blessed  Reinchen,"  and  murmured  an 


RASCHELCHEN 


accompaniment    of    German,    French,    and 
Hebrew  words  of  endearment. 

Sometimes  Engelbrecht  would  regard  his 
gifted  pupil  with  beaming  eyes,  or  tap  her 
on  the  shoulder  with 

"  Bravo,  bravo,  Reinchen !  " 
Then  the  happy  mother  would  cry : 
"A  wonderful  child,  isn't  it?" 
Engelbrecht,  it  happened,  gave  lessons  to 
the  son  of  Mrs.  Chaichen  Biiding,  the  best- 
looking  and  most  charitable  woman  in  the 
community.    Once  she  said  to  him : 

"  Bring  the  girl  to  see  me  some  time.  If 
her  talent  is  really  as  exceptional  as  you 
say,  the  Women's  Auxiliary  must  do 
something  exceptional  for  her  musical 
education." 

"  The  first  thing  to  do  would  be  to  get  her 
another  instrument,"  said  Engelbrecht,  and 
modestly  added,  "  and  another  teacher.  She 
can't  learn  anything  more  from  me.  She 
mastered  the  technique  in  one  year  as  if  by 
a  miracle.  Now,  Tm  nothing  more,  you 
829 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

might  say,  than  a  hodman  at  playing  the  vio- 
h'n,  and  I  wouldn't  attempt  to  guide  such  a 
genius  in  musical  conception." 

"  I'll  see  to  it  she  gets  a  violin,"  said  Mrs. 
Buding.  "  What  teacher  would  you  recom- 
mend?" 

"  Why,  aren't  we  fortunate  enough  to 
have  the  greatest  master  right  here  in  our 
city?"  cried  Engelbrecht,  enthusiastically. 
"  I  mean  Ludwig  Spohr." 

Mrs.  Buding  reflected  an  instant,  then 
took  friendly  leave  of  the  young  musician, 
and  dressed  herself  to  go  to  the  great  com- 
poser and  unexcelled  violinist,  who  a  short 
time  before  had  been  appointed  conductor 
of  the  orchestra  in  the  court  opera.  His 
modest  little  house  was  set  in  a  garden 
near  by,  on  the  Konigsplatz.  His  wife  had 
been  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Buding  for  many 
years.  She  was  an  excellent  harpist,  and  in 
addition  possessed  the  art  of  toning  down 
her  famous  husband's  harshness  and  inac- 
cessibility of  manner.  Through  her  inter- 
330 


RASCHELCHEN 


mediation  the  master  immediately  promised 
to  listen  to  the  child. 

When  Reinchen  received  the  violin  from 
Mrs.  Biiding,  though  it  was  of  little  value, 
she  danced  for  joy;  but  she  started  back  in 
terror  at  the  idea  of  being  presented  to  the 
great  master.  Raschelchen  pleaded  to  be 
allowed  to  accompany  her,  and  the  bene- 
factress felt  that  the  contrast  between 
mother  and  daughter  would  be  most  effect- 
ive in  impressing  the  master.  The  tall  girl 
clad  in  a  white  dress,  with  her  long  golden 
braids  and  long  eyelashes  drooping  shyly  be- 
fore the  coming  good  fortune,  resembled  an 
angel  by  Diirer,  while  Raschelchen  presented 
a  genuine  Dutch  genre  picture,  wrapped  in 
her  green-yellow  shawl,  the  violin  case  under 
her  arm,  and  her  little  head  constantly  nod- 
ding. At  the  entrance  to  the  garden  the  little 
mother  unexpectedly  refused  to  go  farther, 
despite  all  persuasion.  She  insisted  on  wait- 
ing hidden  behind  the  trees  until  she  heard 
the  tones  of  the  "  blessed  "  child's  violin. 
331 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

When  they  entered,  Spohr  was  sitting  at 
the  piano  busily  correcting  the  score  of  his 
opera  "  The  Alchemist,"  which  lay  on  the 
half-open  lid.  He  arose  to  greet  them.  His 
figure  was  tall  and  powerful,  his  features 
noble,  his  brow  like  the  brow  of  the  Jupiter 
of  Otricoli.  The  interruption  in  his  work 
seemed  to  annoy  him.  Not  with  a  single 
glance  did  he  honor  the  girl  who  stood  be- 
fore him  with  a  beating  heart. 

His  wife,  however,  opened  the  piano,  and 
with  her  kindly  manner  drew  the  child  to- 
ward it.  She  took  up  the  notes  Reinchen 
held  in  her  hand,  and  offered  to  accompany 
her.  Smiling  at  the  choice  of  so  difficult  a 
piece — it  was  a  violin  concerto  by  Spohr — 
she  nodded  to  the  little  virtuoso  to  begin. 

The  master  seated  himself  on  the  leather 
sofa  next  to  Mrs.  Biiding,  and  as  it  was  op- 
posite the  window  through  which  the  spring 
sun  cast  the  flickering  lights  and  shadows  of 
young  foliage,  he  put  a  green  shade  over  his 
eyes. 

332 


RASCHELCHEN 

Reinchen  began  to  play.  The  strings 
quivered  under  her  trembling  fingers,  all  the 
blood  left  the  transparent  skin  of  her  face. 
But  she  soon  forgot  the  world  about  her, 
entirely  steeped  in  the  tones  of  the  powerful 
concerto.  The  bow  swung  over  the  difficult 
passages  of  the  allegro  movement  firmly  and 
boldly. 

The  master  listened  with  increasing  at- 
tention, shoved  the  shade  from  his  eyes,  and 
looked  at  the  glowing  child,  who  had  raised 
her  soulful,  inspired  eyes  from  the  notes, 
and  seemed  to  be  improvising  the  glorious 
tone-pictures. 

The  mediocre  instrument  wheezed  pain- 
fully like  a  tired  horse  spurred  on  by  an  im- 
patient rider.  At  the  end  of  the  allegro 
movement  Spohr  tore  it  from  Reinchen's 
hands,  and  oflfered  her  his  own,  which  lay 
on  the  piano  in  an  open  case.  A  shudder 
seemed  to  run  through  the  child's  frame 
when  she  took  up  the  violin  consecrated  by 
the  master's  hand.  Mrs.  Spohr  smiled  affa- 
333 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 


biy,  and  struck  the  opening  chords  of  the 
adagio  movement.  Reinchen  seized  the  bow 
and  played.  The  tones  of  an  organ  came 
from  the  wonderful  Amati.  A  large  tear 
gathered  in  her  blond  lashes,  the  notes  grad- 
ually wavered  before  her,  the  violin  slipped 
from  her  hands,  and  she  covered  her  eyes 
with  her  hands ;  but  the  master  had  already 
seized  her  about  the  waist,  raised  her  in  the 
air,  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead. 

"  Come  as  often  as  you  want,  and  play 
for  me,"  he  cried.  "  God  has  given  you 
what  an  artist  needs.  We  will  see  to  the 
rest.  I  thank  you^'  he  said  to  Mrs.  Biiding, 
who  had  thanked  him  with  feeling.  "  I 
hate  infant  prodigies,  but  this  little  blond 
creature  is  no  child.  The  tones  reveal  a 
great  and  mature  soul." 

From  now  on  Reinchen  took  lessons  from 
Spohr  several  times  a  week.  The  whole 
community  spoke  of  it,  and  overwhelmed 
Raschelchen  with  congratulations.  They 
wanted  to  get  her  a  lighter  and  airier  dwell- 
334 


RASCHELCHEN 


ing,  but  she  declined  their  offers,  and  Rein- 
chen  begged  to  be  allowed  to  remain  in  the 
little  room  of  the  old  synagogue,  to  which 
she  and  her  mother  had  grown  accustomed 
"  Mother  dear,  we'll  remain  here,  won't 
we  ?  "  she  cried  in  stormy  eagerness,  throw- 
ing her  arms  about  her  mother,  and  at  the 
same  time  casting  a  furtive  glance  through 
the  window  into  the  narrow  street. 
"  Certainly,  my  blessed  child." 
Raschelchen's  fortune,  far  from  filling  her 
with  pride,  inspired  her  with  the  profound- 
est  humility.  From  now  on  she  was  a  model 
of  scrupulous  piety.  She  ^wore  her  hair 
carefully  hidden  under  the  black  band,  and 
accompanied  every  sound  of  her  idol's  vio- 
lin with  blessings  and  recitations  of  the 
Psalms,  instinctively  falling  in  with  the  mel- 
odies. Reinchen  had  to  offer  a  sacrifice 
also,  by  permitting  the  beloved  violin  to 
rest  quietly  in  its  case  on  the  Sabbath.  If 
anybody  spoke  to  Raschelchen  in  admira- 
tion of  her  daughter,  she  repelled  the  com- 
I  335 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

pliment  with  a  shake  of  the  head  and  with 
the  absit  omen  of  the  German  Jews,  unbe- 
schrieen  und  unberufen,  as  if  she  feared  the 
envy  of  the  evil  powers.  But  a  happy  smile 
completed  that  of  which  her  words  had  for- 
bidden the  utterance. 

People  wanted  to  listen  to  exhibitions  of 
her  highly  extolled  talent,  and  invited  Rein- 
chen  to  parties ;  but  she  refused  on  the  plea 
that  she  still  had  much  studying  to  do  before 
she  could  allow  herself  to  be  heard  in  pub- 
lic. The  mother  was  delighted  with  the  de- 
cision. She  wanted  to  have  her  daughter  to 
herself;  her  sole  possession  on  earth  was  to 
be  shared  with  no  one.  When  Engelbrecht 
tried  to  persuade  her  that  Reinchen  could 
hold  her  own  with  any  performer  whatso- 
ever, she  would  shake  her  head  violently. 

"  My  Reinchen  must  not  be  applauded 
like  other  musicians.  A  Broche  must  be 
said  over  her." 

And  she  herself  made  Broches  in  words 
and  in  looks,  when,  in  the  small  lamp-lit 
336 


RASCHELCHEN 


room,  Reinchen's  violin  sent  forth  its  sounds 
to  the  accompaniment  of  Engelbrecht's  play- 
ing on  an  old  spinet,  bought  at  a  second-hand 
shop,  from  the  ragged  notes  of  the  circu- 
lating library.  Raschelchen  would  sit  in  a 
dark  corner  shaking  her  head  and  mur- 
muring : 

"  God  Almighty — the  child — my  Rein- 
chen — my  Tachshid — my  bijou — Lo  kom — 
Lord,  the  Sechie — if  my  father  were  to  hear 
her,  he'd  forgive  me  everything — listen  to 
those  tones — it's  magic — look  at  her  face — 
just  like  him — Joseph's  Chen — my  Reinchen 
— my  pearl — may  God  preserve  thee — Omen 
ve-Omen ! " 

Her  mother's  text  to  her  melodies  amused 
Reinchen,  and  she  sent  the  accompanist  a 
furtive  smile  over  the  exclamations. 

Engelbrecht  was  the  sole  witness  of  this 
quiet  but  happy  existence.  Regarding  the 
young  artist  as  his  "  discovery,"  he  watched 
her  progress  with  silent  triumph. 

He  was  a  slender  youth  of  twenty,  blue- 

337 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

eyed  and  red-cheeked.  His  blond  hair 
brushed  smoothly  behind  his  ears  fell  over 
his  neck,  and  his  eyes  looked  amiably 
through  a  pair  of  rimless  glasses.  He  grad- 
ually gave  up  his  old  associations  with  his 
Philistine  family  and  the  circles  that  haunted 
the  Rathskeller,  and  passed  every  hour  left 
free  from  his  teaching  and  his  duties  at  the 
theatre  in  the  little  room  of  the  dilapidated 
synagogue.  It  was  so  cosy  there  when  the 
sun  reflected  from  the  gable  of  the  high 
house  opposite  shone  through  the  clean 
white  curtains  and  brought  out  the  perfume 
of  the  two  basilicum  plants  standing  on  the 
window-sill.  And  it  was  so  pleasant  to  have 
Reinchen  jump  up  hastily  from  the  foot- 
stool of  her  mother's  easy-chair,  where 
Raschelchen  was  sleepily  nodding,  and  run 
to  meet  him,  holding  out  her  fine  white 
hands.  In  the  evening,  when  the  brass  lamp 
on  the  white  table-cloth  cast  its  circle  of 
light  on  the  ceiling,  the  new  violin  would  be 
carefully  removed  from  its  case,  and  the  two 


RASCHELCHEN 


would  begin  to  play.  If  a  Beethoven  sonata 
was  to  be  rendered,  Engelbrecht  would  ac- 
company Reinchen  on  the  spinet;  if  a  violin 
duet,  the  two  blond  heads  inclined  toward 
each  other  in  the  painstaking  effort  to  bring 
their  instruments  into  accord. 

Reinchen  could  associate  with  her  neigh- 
bor, the  child  of  poor  parents  and  her  col- 
league, in  that  unconstrained  intimacy  which 
in  small  towns  makes  friends  of  children 
who  live  on  the  same  street.  He  called  her 
Reinchen,  she  called  him  Christian,  a  name 
that  would  never  glide  easily  from  the 
tongue  of  Raschelchen,  who  consistently 
used  the  name  Engelbrecht. 

Imperceptibly  Engelbrecht's  musical  abil- 
ities increased  from  contact  with  his  pupil. 
The  genius  that  inspired  her  playing  flowed 
into  him,  and  gave  him  a  fresh  understand- 
ing of  music.  Formerly  he  had  played  with 
the  precision  of  a  technician ;  now  he  showed 
the  fine  musical  sensibility  that  Reinchen 
displayed  either  intuitively  or  as  a  result 
839 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

of  the  great  master's  instructions.  Though 
now  and  then  he  was  able  to  correct  the  en- 
thusiastic girl  for  hastening  the  tempo,  or 
giving  too  individualistic  or  too  disjointed 
a  form  to  her  phrases,  Reinchen  was  really 
his  teacher.  They  instinctively  felt  that 
they  complemented  each  other.  The  tones 
of  the  two  violins  gracefully  adapted  them- 
selves to  one  tone.  Eye  sunk  in  eye,  each 
waiting  carefully  for  every  shading  in  the 
other's  rendition,  for  every  touch  of  feel- 
ing, for  every  rise  in  passion,  their  souls 
flowed  into  each  other,  and  their  hearts  vi- 
brated as  harmoniously  as  the  chords  of 
their  violins. 

Sometimes  Engelbrecht  got  a  quartet  to- 
gether by  bringing  two  of  his  colleagues, 
and  the  musicians  and  their  stands  quite 
filled  the  little  room.  Raschelchen  sat  on 
the  bed  at  the  window,  her  prayer-book  in 
her  hands,  nodding  her  head  admiringly  in 
time  with  the  music.  When  the  first  violin, 
played  by  Reinchen,  accomplished  the  diffi- 
340 


RASCHELCHEN 


cult  passages,  she  would  cry  out  in  wonder, 
"Sst!  Sst!" 

Thus  for  months  their  life  flowed  on 
quietly  and  smoothly. 

However,  little  clouds  sometimes  dimmed 
the  sunshine.  If  on  a  Friday  evening  En- 
gelbrecht  opened  the  spinet,  and  began  to 
play  some  favorite  selection,  and  Reinchen 
behind  her  mother's  back  involuntarily 
reached  out  for  her  violin,  Raschelchen 
came  rushing  in  with  an  outcry : 

"  Reinchen,  what  are  you  doing  ?  On  the 
holy  Sabbath!" 

The  girl  shamefacedly  put  her  violin 
away,  but  Engelbrecht  passed  some  scorn- 
ful remark  about  "  ridiculous  prejudices," 
or  "  the  narrow-mindedness  of  the  bigoted 
Jews,"  and  Reinchen,  avoiding  Raschel- 
chen's  notice,  slipped  her  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der and  begged  him  with  a  beseeching  look 
not  to  annoy  her  mother.  Raschelchen, 
However,  would  shake  her  head,  turn  her 
back,  and  mutter,  "  The  Goy  I  " 
841 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

She  said  nothing  to  Reinchen  against  En- 
gelbrecht,  because  she  knew  how  indispensa- 
ble the  colleague  was  to  her  child. 

At  the  end  of  Reinchen's  sixteenth  win- 
ter, the  heart  of  the  pious  woman  had  to  un- 
dergo a  severe  conflict.  In  Easter  week  a 
great  oratorio  was  to  be  given  in  the  garri- 
son church,  which  possessed  the  finest  organ 
in  the  city.  Spohr  arranged  the  program 
and  conducted  the  orchestra.  The  soprano 
was  to  be  Henriette  Sontag.  For  the  vio- 
linist who  was  to  play  a  solo  introduction  to 
one  of  the  prima  donna's  arias  and  accom- 
pany her  singing  of  the  aria,  he  chose 
Reinchen. 

When  Reinchen  heard  of  the  choice,  she 
glowed  all  over,  and  played  for  her  master 
enthusiastically,  eliciting  an  affable  tap  on 
the  shoulder.  She  announced  the  news  to 
her  mother  gleefully,  and  spoke  with  Engel- 
brecht  of  the  sensation  it  would  create  to 
have  Reine  Piccard's  name  associated  with 
that  of  the  world-famous  singer. 

342 


RASCHELCHEN 


Raschelchen  received  the  news  with  a  vio- 
lent shaking  of  the  head. 

"  My  child  play  in  a  church !  My  pious 
father,  peace  be  with  him,  would  turn  in  his 
grave." 

"I  don't  understand  you!"  Engelbrecht 
exclaimed  in  a  temper. 

"  You  can't,"  answered  Raschelchen, 
quietly. 

Reinchen  took  to  pleading.  She  read  the 
Biblical  text  of  the  oratorio  with  a  devout 
expression,  and  when  that  did  not  succeed, 
began  to  play  the  melody  of  the  aria  on  her 
violin. 

"  That  sounds  like  a  Nigun,"  said  Ra- 
schelchen, amazed.    She  was  half  conquered. 

Reinchen  followed  up  the  partial  victory 
by  throwing  her  arms  about  her  mother's 
neck  and  stroking  the  prematurely  gray  hair. 

"  Well,  mother  dear,  I  may,  mayn't  I  ?  " 

Raschelchen  nodded  in  spite  of  herself, 
and  Reinchen  jumped  up  rejoicing: 

"  I  may,  I  may !  " 

343 


~D 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

She  kissed  the  viohn  and  hef  friend 
Christian. 

The  very  next  day  the  street  placards 
announced  Miss  Reine  Piccard  next  to  Hen- 
riette  Sontag,  and  the  whole  community 
congratulated  Raschelchen  on  the  extraor- 
dinary Koved. 

But  neither  the  community  nor  Raschel- 
chen had  consulted  a  Luach.  Rehearsals 
were  already  in  full  swing  when  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  concert  would  take  place 
on  Seder  evening.  Now  the  mother  put  her 
absolute  veto  upon  Reinchen's  participating 
in  the  concert,  and  insisted  on  her  telling 
the  master.  Reinchen  obeyed  in  tears.  But 
Ludwig  Spohr  drew  his  Jupiter  brow  into 
a  threatening  frown,  and  exclaimed : 

"  Stupid  stuff !  I  command  you  to  play ! 
That's  all!" 

Was  it  right  for  her  to  irritate  the  master 
to  whom  she  owed  everything?  Reinchen 
hastened  to  Mrs.  Biiding,  and  told  her  of  the 
difficulty. 

344 


RASCHELCHEN 


"  Don't  worry,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Buding 
comforted  her,  and  went  with  her  to  see 
Raschelchen.  "  You  must  make  this  sacri- 
fice for  Mr.  Spohr,"  she  said  to  the  mother, 
"  and,  beHeve  me,  it  will  be  a  deed  pleasing 
to  the  Lord.  Just  think,  Reinchen  is  the 
first  Jewish  child  to  whom  the  great  master 
has  ever  given  the  benefit  of  his  instruction. 
If  you  got  him  into  a  pickle  now  by  with- 
drawing Reinchen,  you  would  make  him 
very,  very  angry,  and  he  would  never  give 
in  to  anything  like  it  again.  Then  you  would 
be  answerable  for  it  for  all  time  to  come. 
Besides,  the  honor  of  your  child  is  the  honor 
of  the  whole  community  and  a  Kiddush  ha- 
Shem,  and  a  pious  woman  ought  not  to  be 
against  it." 

Raschelchen  shook  her  head  at  these 
arguments. 

"  I  don't  know  what's  what  any  more," 

she  said,  "  and  the  worst  thing  in  the  world 

is  if  you  don't  know  what's  right  and  what's 

wrong.    My  pious  father,  peace  be  with  him, 

345 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

could  have  told  me,  and  there's  no  Rav  here 
who  can  pasken  it  for  me.  But  you're  a 
pious  woman,  and  know  more  in  your  little 
finger  than  I  do  in  my  head.  So  in  God's 
name  let  Reinchen  play  in  the  church  on 
Seder  evening." 

She  burst  into  tears,  which  Reinchen  in 
vain  endeavored  to  soothe  away. 

"  Don't  cry,  dear  little  mother,  don't 
cry,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  won't  do  it  if  you  for- 
bid me  to." 

"  But  I  don't  forbid  you  to !  I  don't  know 
any  more  what's  right  and  what's  wrong." 

While  Reinchen  played  her  soulful  tones 
in  the  church,  admired  of  all,  her  mother 
sat  in  the  women's  gallery  of  the  synagogue, 
her  head  buried  in  her  Siddur,  praying  de- 
voutly, fervently,  as  if  to  drown  the  sounds 
that  rose  to  Heaven  from  her  child's  violin. 
On  returning  home,  she  spread  the  table 
with  the  white  cloths  and  the  browned  Mat- 
zos,  and  waited  in  silence  for  her  daughter's 
coming.  Reinchen  appeared,  still  glowing 
346 


RASCHELCHEN 


with  excitement,  clad  in  a  white  dress  and 
a  rose  in  her  hair.  Engelbrecht  escorted 
her,  and  congratulated  the  mother  on  the 
applause  Reinchen's  playing  had  evoked. 

Raschelchen  seemed  scarcely  to  hear  her. 

"  Let  me  bless  you,  my  child,"  she  said, 
and  murmuring  softly  laid  her  hands  on  the 
blond  head. 

She  did  not  invite  Engelbrecht  to  remain. 
No  "  stranger "  should  take  part  in  the 
Seder  meal.  She  put  the  dishes  on  the  table 
without  speaking,  and  Reinchen  sat  there 
on  the  night  of  her  first  triumph  with  a 
heavy  heart. 

The  news  of  Reinchen's  first  success  was 
spread  abroad,  and  every  day  brought  in 
congratulations  and  praises  and  approving 
notices  in  the  city  papers,  as  well  as  in  jour- 
nals published  elsewhere.  But  the  pious 
mother's  depression  only  increased,  and  cast 
ever  deepening  shadows  on  her  soul.  She 
did  not  suffer  from  scruples  regarding  the 
past,  but  from  a  mysterious  foreboding  of 
a47 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  future.  The  music  had  come  between 
her  and  her  child,  she  began  to  shrink  from 
it,  fear  it,  as  if  it  were  some  hostile  force. 
Likewise  she  grew  to  hate  the  Goy  Engel- 
brecht  in  the  measure  that  he  became  indis- 
pensable to  Reinchen. 

He  visited  the  little  room  more  frequently 
than  ever  in  order  to  practice,  and  he  spoke 
of  projects  he  and  the  girl  would  carry  out 
together,  of  concerts  and  tours  in  foreign 
cities,  of  tremendous  success  and  wealth. 
Raschelchen  merely  shook  her  head  over 
such  "  Shtuss." 

Reinchen,  na'ive  and  unconstrained  as  was 
her  intercourse  with  her  childhood  friend, 
felt  that  a  magic  power  was  forcing  her  to 
his  will,  though  she  did  not  tell  herself  this 
in  so  many  words.  Every  fibre  of  her  being 
was  wrapped  about  her  loved  music,  and  in 
Engelbrecht  she  found  the  elective  affinity 
who  understood  her.  The  tones  of  her  vio- 
lin seemed  thin  and  poor  when  not  joined 
to  his.    The  voices  of  their  instruments  were 

348 


RASCHELCHEN 


the  voices  with  which  the  two  musicians 
spoke  to  each  other.  Through  the  tones 
of  their  art  they  caught  each  other's 
thoughts,  each  other's  sorrows  and  joys. 
Reinchen  knew  only  too  well  she  could  not 
live  without  Christian,  but  she  did  not  know 
the  name  of  the  force  that  drew  her  to  him. 

Summer  approached.  The  theatre  was 
closed,  and  Ludwig  Spohr  went  to  the  baths. 
On  taking  leave  of  Reinchen  he  laid  his 
great  hand  lovingly  on  her  head. 

"  Bravo,  my  child,  another  year  and  we'll 
be  something  worth  the  while!  But  spare 
yourself  during  the  summer.  I  don't  like 
to  see  you  growing  up  so  tall  and  thin.  Be- 
sides, violin  playing  is  hard  on  the  chest, 
especially  if  one  plays  with  his  whole  soul, 
as  you  do." 

However,  it  was  exactly  in  the  summer 
time  that  Engelbrecht  had  leisure ;  and  duets 
for  the  future  tour  were  studied  with  all 
the  more  diligence.  And  think  of  it! 
Letters  were  already  coming  in  from  var- 
849 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

ious  baths,  inviting  the  young  artists  to  play 
at  concerts  and  musicales.  Engelbrecht's 
secret  steps  toward  securing  engagements 
were  bringing  in  results. 

He  would  carry  the  letters  to  Reinchen 
in  triumph,  and  trembling  with  eagerness 
she  would  read  them  to  her  mother. 
Raschelchen,  however,  received  them  with  a 
violent  shaking  of  her  head. 

"  Shmues  periendis  {pour  rien  dits) .  Do 
you  suppose  I'll  let  you  go  away,  my  Rein- 
chen, without  me?  '* 

"  Who  says  I  will  ?  "  Reinchen  cried  out 
frightened. 

"Wouldn't  you  be  going  without  me?'' 
Raschelchen  rejoined  vehemently.  "  Should 
I  go  along,  and  lead  you  around  like  an 
elephant?  And  supposing,  God  forbid,  you 
should  get  sick  out  there  among  strangers? 
Not  for  the  world!  What  do  I  care  for 
your  music,  if  it  takes  my  Reinchen  away 
from  me — my  only  treasure  in  all  this  wide 
world !  "     Tears   choked  her.     "  Look   at 

350 


RASCHELCHEN 


me,"  she  continued,  "  I  can't  tell  you  now, 
not  yet,  and  certainly  not  before  other  peo- 
ple— ^but  I'd  give  my  five  fingers  if  I  had 
remained  quietly  at  home  when  I  was  a  girl, 
without  thoughts  of  anything  else.  God 
will  pardon  me.  That's  why  he  gave  you 
to  me,  my  blessed  child!  You'll  put  the 
idea  out  of  your  head,  won't  you  ?  " 

Reinchen  stood  before  her  deeply  moved, 
with  drooping  lids.  Engelbrecht  jumped  up 
from  the  piano-stool,  and  shut  the  lid  of  the 
spinet  with  a  crash. 

"  Nonsense !  "  he  cried.  "  Jewish  narrow- 
mindedness!  Enough  to  disgust  any  sensi- 
ble man!  For  what  do  you  suppose  your 
child  was  given  such  a  gift?  Why  do  you 
suppose  such  a  great  master  taught  her? 
Did  we  study  together  for  years  in  order  to 
play  in  this  miserable  little  hole?  Absurd! 
Bury  such  a  light  under  a  bushel !  That's  a 
sin  you  could  never  answer  for!  " 

Reinchen  paled  and  looked  at  her  mother. 
Raschelchen  merely  smiled  at  the  insults. 
351 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  He  wants  to  teach  me  what  a  sin  is !  '* 
she  murmured.  "And  supposing  I  am  a 
narrow-minded  Jewess,  who  begs  her  child 
for  something,  for  something  her  heart  and 
her  bitter  experience  tell  her  to  ask  for? 
Is  it  a  sin  to  honor  one's  father  and  one's 
mother  ?  That's  a  thing  to  be  settled  between 
ourselves,  and  with  no  third  person !  " 

"  Very  well !  "  cried  Engelbrecht,  tremb- 
ling so  violently  that  his  spectacles  shook  on 
his  nose.  "  You  settle  it  between  your- 
selves! If  you  must,  stay  in  your  Juden- 
gasse.  And  for  this  I  drew  this  talent  out 
of.  the  mud  like  a  pearl,  and  for  this  I  took 
her  to  the  great  master,  and  for  this  luxu- 
riated for  two  years  in  Mozart,  Beethoven, 
and  Haydn  with  her!  Great  Genius,"  he 
exclaimed,  throwing  the  notes  from  the 
stand  to  the  floor,  "  forgive  them,  they  know 
not  what  they  do !  " 

Reinchen  stooped  to  pick  up  the  notes, 
but  Engelbrecht  caught  her  impulsively  by 
the  shoulders,  and  cried  out: 

352 


RASCHELCHEN 


"  Never  mind,  never  mind !  You  don't 
need  them  any  more.  And  you  don't  need 
the  strings  of  your  violin.  I'll  tear  them 
oflF!" 

Reinchen  wrenched  the  violin  from  his 
clasp,  arid  held  it  to  her  bosom  as  a  mother 
holds  a  whimpering  child.  She  was  like 
a  slender  sapling  torn  hither  and  thither  by 
contrary  winds. 

"  Not  that,  mother,  not  that,  anything 
else,  but  not  that !  "  She  raised  her  large 
eyes  to  her  mother  full  of  pained  despair. 

Raschelchen  clasped  both  hands  about  her 
knees  to  hide  their  trembling. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me,  my  child? 
You  won't  get  me  to  take  my  young  tender 
child  out  into  the  strange  world.  Do  you 
want  to  go  alone,  without  me,  against  my 
will?  Do  whatever  your  heart  tells  you  to 
do." 

"  Reinchen !  "  Engelbrecht  cried  out  joy- 
ously, and  drew  the  trembling  girl  into  the 
window-niche,  where  he  began  to  speak  to 
3S8 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

her  in  whispers.     She  listened  to  him,  her 
whole  body  quivering. 

"  What  is  he  saying  to  you,  what  are 
you  saying  that  you  don't  want  me  to 
hear?"  Raschelchen  cried,  and  arose  from 
her  seat. 

"  Nothing  you  mayn't  hear,"  answered 
Engelbrecht.  "  In  fact,  I  want  you  to  hear 
it,  and  you  must  listen.  Your  child  now 
stands  at  the  parting  of  the  ways.  The 
gates  of  art  either  open  to  her  now,  or  close 
against  her  forever.  She  should  step 
through  the  gates  holding  my  hand — my 
hand,  my  love,  do  you  hear?  I  will  accom- 
pany you  through  life  as  my  playing  accom- 
panies your  playing." 

Reinchen  regarded  him  with  wide-open 
eyes.  Raschelchen  threw  a  look  at  him  as 
at  a  madman. 

"  You  understand  me,  don't  you  ?  "  Engel- 
brecht   continued    with    growing    passion. 
"  You  have  understood  me  all  along.    Since 
we  found  each  other,  what  I  told  you  in 
354 


RASCHELCHEN 


music,  you  answered  in  music.  Now  let  me 
tell  you  in  words — *  I  love  you.'  And  now 
you  gather  courage  to  tell  me  in  words,  *  I 
love  you.'  It  must  be  decided  now,  this  very 
moment.  The  chains  that  bind  your  heart 
and  your  genius  must  be  broken.  Break 
them,  my  love,  break  them  as  I  break  away 
from  all  the  prejudices  of  the  world  against 
your  nation.  Be  my  wife.  One  word — yes 
or  no.  United  forever  or  separated  for- 
ever!" 

The  handsome  youth  hung  his  flashing 
glance  on  the  eyes  of  the  girl.  She  could 
not  utter  the  word.  She  reddened  up  to  the 
golden  fringe  on  her  temples;  her  bosom 
heaved  as  if  for  the  first  time  raising  its 
young  wings.  What  he  was  saying  of  things 
she  had  never  before  heard  sounded  con- 
fused, like  a  strange  language.  A  sweet  ter- 
ror held  her  heart  and  chained  her  tongue. 
Her  vision  did  not  fix  itself  upon  her  lover, 
nor  upon  her  mother;  it  fled  inward,  into 
her  own  soul.  A  feeling  of  alarm  took  pos- 
356 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

session  of  her,  a  cold  shiver  ran  through  all 
her  limbs. 

"  One  word !  One  word !  "  cried  Engel- 
brecht,  and  caught  her  cold,  trembling  hand. 

Raschelchen,  who  had  followed  his  decla- 
ration in  speechless  astonishment,  wanted  to 
withdraw  her  child  from  contact  with  him. 
Her  muscles,  however,  refused  to  obey  her, 
and  she  sank  back  into  her  seat.  She  saw 
her  whole  past,  her  whole  future  compressed 
into  this  one  moment. 

"  Now  you  see,"  she  managed  to  utter 
painfully,  "  now  you  see  what  he  is  aiming 
at  with  his  '  art.'  Speak,  speak  as  you  think. 
The  Almighty  can't  mean  to  punish  me  so 
cruelly  that  my  child  will  disavow  her  God 
and  her  mother !  I  won't  say  a  word.  You 
give  him  the  answer." 

"  Reinchen,  do  you  love  me  ?  "  exclaimed 
Engelbrecht,  and  seized  both  the  hands  of 
the  girl  standing  there  motionless.  Her  lips 
moved,  but  did  not  pronounce  a  word.  He 
hastily  caught  up  his  hat. 
356 


RASCHELCHEN 


"You  are  silent!"  he  cried  wildly. 
"  Good-by,  then,  forever  !" 

"Christian!" 

The  anguished  cry  escaped  Reinchen's 
breast  as  from  a  person  drowning.  She 
raised  both  arms,  and  the  violin  she  had 
pressed  to  her  breast  slid  to  the  floor. 

Raschelchen  heard  the  name,  and  sank 
back  as  if  struck  by  lightning. 

"  Reinchen,  my  child ! "  she  screamed 
shrilly  in  intense  anguish. 

At  this  Reinchen  seemed  to  awake  from  a 
trance.  Her  stiffened  limbs  relaxed,  and  she 
darted  like  an  arrow  to  her  mother,  throw- 
ing both  arms  about  her  neck.  "  I'll  stay 
with  you,  mother  dear !  "  she  sobbed.  "  As 
long  as  I  live  I'll  stay  with  my  mother !  " 

Engelbrecht  rushed  out.  The  sound  of 
his  footsteps  gradually  died  away  on  the 
rickety  wooden  stairway.  The  child  lay 
on  her  mother's  breast  sobbing  aloud. 
Raschelchen  pressed  the  blond  head  close  to 
her  heart  and  whispered  in  her  ear: 
367 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  I  know  what  is  going  on  inside  of  you, 
my  Tachshid,  my  jewel!  You  have  done 
what  I  didn't  do,  you  have  ransomed  your 
mother's  soul,  and  my  pious  father  is  bless- 
ing you  for  it."  And  laying  her  hand  on 
her  child's  head  she  prayed  with  her  eyes 
raised  to  heaven :  "  God  bless  thee  like 
Sarah,  Rebecca,  Rachel,  and  Leah.  May  the 
Lord  bless  and  preserve  thee,  may  the  Lord 
let  his  countenance  shine  upon  thee  and  be 
merciful  to  thee,  may  He  turn  His  counte- 
nance upon  thee  and  grant  thee — peace!  " 

A  few  days  later  Engelbrecht  left  the  city 
to  take  a  position  that  had  been  offered  him 
at  the  imperial  theatre  in  Vienna. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  play  something  for 
me,  my  blessed  child  ?  "  Raschelchen  asked 
the  next  day,  after  Reinchen  had  removed 
the  torn  strings  of  the  violin  and  was  begin- 
ning to  stretch  fresh  ones.  Reinchen  took 
up  the  bow,  touched  the  strings,  and  laid  it 
down  again. 

"  I  can't,  mother  dear,"  she  said  quietly. 

358 


RASCHELCHEN 


Her  cheeks  were  white.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  they  began  to  redden  again, 
and  this  time  the  roses  lay  sharply  defined 
and  glowing  upon  the  transparent  skin.  Her 
eyes  seemed  larger  and  more  brilliant  than 
formerly. 

At  Shabuos  Raschelchen  took  her  daugh- 
ter to  the  Temple.  On  the  steps  they  met 
Mrs.  Buding,  who  looked  in  surprise  and 
concern  at  the  slender  girl  with  her  flushed 
cheeks  and  pale  lips. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  she 
asked,  stroking  the  blond  locks.  "  Aren't 
you  feeling  well  ?  " 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  with  my 
Reinchen  ?  "  Raschelchen  exclaimed,  taken 
aback. 

"  Nothing's  the  matter  with  me,"  said 
Reinchen,  and  smiled. 

"  But  there  is!    I  know  what  you  need." 

Reinchen  grew  hot. 

"  You  need  light  and  air.  You  studied 
too  hard  during  the  winter,  and  now  in  the 

?69 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Spring  not  a  ray  of  sunlight  strikes  your 
street.     Something  must  be  done  about  it." 

A  few  days  later  Mrs.  Biiding  rented  a 
room  in  a  gardener's  house  outside  the  Hol- 
land Gate,  and  insisted  on  the  two  women's 
occupying  it.  The  spinet  and  the  violin 
were  transferred  to  the  new  apartment,  but 
they  remained  untouched.  There  was  no 
need  for  the  physician  Mrs.  Buding  had 
sent  to  forbid  Reinchen  to  play. 

She  sat  in  the  garden  quietly  enjoying 
the  flowers,  and  inclining  her  head  toward 
the  sunshine  like  a  monthly  rose  in  a  glass 
of  water.  She  always  met  her  mother's 
look  with  a  smile.  Soon  she  could  not  leave 
her  room  from  sheer  weariness.  The  gar- 
dener's people  set  flower-pots  on  her  win- 
dow sill,  and  laid  roses  on  the  bed-spread. 
Over  the  bed  hung  her  violin.  She  did  not 
complain  of  any  pain,  she  merely  smiled 
more  and  more  gently,  like  the  flickering  of 
a  lamp  in  which  the  oil  is  burning  away. 

Raschelchen  did  not  seem  to  notice  her 


RASCHELCHEN 


child's  condition.  She  sat  at  her  bed  quietly 
and  without  concern.  The  women  of  the 
community  visited  her  frequently,  and  Mrs. 
Spohr  often  made  sympathetic  inquiries  re- 
garding her  favorite's  health.  One  day 
Aunt  Channe  went  to  see  Raschelchen.  Ex- 
perienced old  woman  that  she  was,  who  had 
many  and  many  a  time  sat  alongside  sick 
beds,  she  noted  with  great  anxiety  the  telling 
line  that  extended  from  the  girl's  transpar- 
ent nose  to  the  red  spots  on  her  sunken 
cheeks.  She  gave  no  voice  to  her  fears, 
and  merely  said  to  Raschelchen,  who  accom- 
panied her  to  the  garden  : 

"God  will  help." 

Raschelchen  smiled. 

"  Of  course,  He  will,"  she  said  with  sin- 
gular assurance.  "  Nothing  will  happen  to 
my  Reinchen.  I  know  it.  I  just  now  read 
again  about  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham.  The 
Holy  One,  blessed  be  He,  didn't  want  to 
take  his  child  from  our  father  Abraham. 
He  just  wanted  to  find  out  if  he  loved  Him 

361 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

or  his  child  better.  And  afterward  He  sent 
His  Angel.  And  it  is  accounted  a  great 
merit  to  Abraham  that  he  was  willing  to 
put  his  child  to  death.  Even  now  we  still 
remind  God  of  Abraham,  and  ask  Him  to 
forgive  us  our  sins  because  of  what  he  did. 
That's  what's  written  in  the  Torah,  isn't  it, 
Mrs.  Channe?  And  honor  thy  father  and 
thy  mother  is  also  something  for  which 
you're  rewarded.  That's  the  reason  I'm 
perfectly  easy  in  my  mind  that  nothing  can 
happen  to  my  Reinchen.  I  still  think  it's 
nothing  more  than  weakness  from  growing 
so  fast." 

To  comfort  her  Aunt  Channe  agreed 
with  her. 

"Of  course  of  course!  That's  what's 
written  in  the  Torah." 

So  Raschelchen,  happy  in  her  confidence, 
sat  at  the  foot  of  Reinchen's  bed,  and  chatted 
with  the  sick  girl. 

"  Now,  Reinchen,"  she  said,  "  now  Rein- 
chen, my  heart,  you're  big  enough  for  me 
362 


RASCHELCHEN 


to  tell  you  what  I  never  told  you — about 
your  father." 

Reinchen's  hands  quivered  in  hers. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  whispered. 

"  You  know,  my  pearl,  I  come  of  good 
people.  My  father  of  blessed  memory  was 
the  famous  cantor  of  the  large  Shul  in 
Metz.  He  had  a  voice — I  can't  tell  you 
what  a  voice  he  had.  He  trilled  like  a  night- 
ingale. My  mother,  peace  be  with  her,  died 
when  I  was  little,  and  Miihmle  Madel,  my 
father's  sister,  brought  me  up.  She  prayed 
the  whole  day  long,  and  I  could  do  what- 
ever I  wanted  to.  I  didn't  learn  anything, 
but  three  times  a  day  I  dressed  my  hair  a 
different  way.  Hair-dressing  seemed  to 
stick  in  my  fingers.  My  father  never  said 
an  angry  word  to  me.  When  Muhnile 
scolded  me,  he  pinched  my  cheek.  Good 
Lord,  what  a  man  he  was!  You  got  all 
your  music  from  him.  He  loved  me  the 
way  I  love  you,  and  I — God  forgive  me  for 
it — !  "    Sobs  choked  her  voice. 

363 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  But  you  were  going  to  tell  me  of  my 
father,  mother  dear,"  said  Reinchen,  strok- 
ing Raschelchen's  hands. 

"  Yes,  that  was  in  the  year  nine.  The 
army  was  on  its  way  to  Austria,  and  took  up 
quarters  in  Metz.  A  man  lodged  with  us 
who  had  something  to  do  with  purveying 
for  the  commissary.  He  was  a  Jew  from 
Alsace,  and  his  name  was  Piccard.  He  was 
with  us  for  four  weeks.  Handsome — hand- 
some as  an  angel  of  the  Lord.  The  cut  of 
his  features  was  exactly  like  yours.  My 
father  liked  to  listen  to  him,  because  he 
talked  like  a  book,  and  I  liked  to  listen  much 
more.  I  didn't  hear  anything  in  the  world 
except  Piccard,  I  didn't  see  anything  except 
Piccard  with  his  blond  hair.  Can  you  imag- 
ine it?" 

Reinchen  closed  her  eyes,  and  a  slight 
shudder  drew  the  muscles  of  her  pale  face. 

"  Well,  when  the  time  came  for  the  army 
to  continue  on  its  way,  he  said  to  me :     *  Ra- 
schelchen,  come  with  me,  be  my  wife.'  " 
364 


RASCHELCHEN 


"  I  flew  to  my  father.  I  was  in  the  sev- 
enth heaven. 

"  '  My  dear  child,*  said  my  father,  *  don't 
be  led  astray.  Stay  with  your  old  father. 
You  won't  have  it  better  anywhere  in  the 
world.  You  don't  know  him  well  enough, 
and  a  person  mustn't  depend  merely  on  fair 
speeches,  and  you  will  be  going  with  him  to 
where  there  is  war.  Take  my  advice,  my 
child,  and  put  the  idea  out  of  your  head.' 

" '  My  father  doesn't  approve,'  I  said  to 
him. 

"*Why  do  you  ask  your  father  if  you 
love  me?'  he  said.  'A  wife  should  leave 
father  and  mother  and  cleave  to  her  hus- 
band.   That's  what  is  written  in  the  Torah.' 

"How  shall  I  tell  you,  Reinchen,  my 
jewel  ?  When  he  had  to  go  away,  I  felt  as 
if  he  were  drawing  my  soul  from  me.  And 
I — I  went  along  with  him,  in  secret,  without 
telling  my  father.  We  were  married  in 
Strassburg  by  the  mayor.  I  wanted  to  go 
to  the  Rav,  but  he  said: 
S66 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

"  '  It's  the  new  law,  and  in  time  of  war 
you  can't  budge/ 

"  So  we  travelled  along  till  we  reached 
Ulm,  where  they  stopped  a  long  time.  I 
couldn't  go  any  farther  on  account  of  you. 
At  night  I  cried  my  eyes  out  for  sorrow 
over  my  father,  and  that  vexed  him  so,  and 
I  didn't  have  another  good  hour.  I  saw  I 
was  a  burden  to  him.  Then  he  said  I 
couldn't  go  any  further,  and  he  gave  me 
money,  and  I  went  back  home  to  my  father. 
When  I  threw  myself  down  before  him  and 
cried,  he  didn't  say  an  angry  word;  and 
when  Miihmle  Madel  railed  at  me,  he  would 
say: 

"  *  What  are  you  doing?  Isn't  she  pun- 
ished enough  ?  ' 

"  Then  you  were  born,  and  he  blessed 
you  with  his  pious  hands.  Such  a  father! 
But  I  saw  how  I  had  grieved  him  to  death. 
Because  he  was  all  broken  down,  and  he 
coughed.  Trouble  makes  people  old  before 
their  time.  I  waited  and  waited  for  a  letter, 
366 


RASCHELCHEN 


but  nothing  came.  I  heard  the  purveying 
commission  had  taken  up  quarters  in  Cas- 
sel,  and  I  left  once  more.  Even  if  Miihmle 
did  scold  me,  she  liked  you,  and  I  knew  you 
would  be  cared  for.  I  arrived  in  Cassel, 
and  ran  my  feet  off  looking  for  him,  but 
nobody  knew  anything  about  him.  I  was 
ashamed  to  go  back  to  my  father,  and  I  was 
afraid  of  Miihmle,  so  I  wrote  I  had  found 
him,  and  I  sent  home  the  money  I  earned  by 
hair-dressing,  as  if  he  were  sending  it  for 
his  child.  I  hid  my  great  sorrow,  and 
smiled  and  laughed  so  that  I  shouldn't 
weary  people.  I  kept  asking  after  him,  and 
I  finally  found  out  from  the  wife  of  a  gen- 
eral whose  hair  I  dressed  that  he  had  gone 
with  the  great  army  to  Russia.  But  he 
never  came  away  from  Russia,  nebbich, 
and  may  God  pardon  him,  as  I  pardoned 
him  long  ago.  I  didn't  deserve  any  better 
than  I  got. 

"  *  Honor  thy  father  and  thy  mother  '  is 
on  the  two  tablets  that  God  Himself  gave  to 
367 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Moshe  Rabbenu!  Isn't  it  so,  my  Reinchen, 
my  blessed  child  ?  " 

Reinchen  drew  her  mother's  hand  to  her 
hot,  cracked  lips,  and  again  closed  her  eyes 
with  their  long  golden  lashes. 

"  Well,"  continued  Raschelchen,  "  when 
the  Empire  came  to  an  end  here,  what  waSy 
there  for  me  to  do?  I  went  home,  and  my 
father — I  didn't  see  him  again!  God  had 
taken  him  to  Himself  four  weeks  before. 
I  couldn't  even  close  his  eyes,  those  good 
soft  eyes.  You  must  remember  his  eyes, 
Reinchen.  You  were  four  years  old  al- 
ready !  I  didn't  tear  my  hair  out,  so  as  not 
to  give  the  others  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
me  stricken  down  by  my  troubles.  I  kneeled 
at  his  grave,  and  swore  I  would  be  pious 
like  himself,  so  that  in  the  next  world  he 
would  pardon  me  the  grief  I  caused  him  here 
on  earth.  My  father,  nebbich,  didn't  leave 
anything;  there  was  no  way  of  earning 
money  at  home,  and  I  was  ashamed,  too, 
so  I  left  what  little  there  was  to  Miihmle 


RASCHELCHEN 


Madel,  and  came  here  with  you  where  I 
knew  there  were  good  people.  You  were 
my  Mazel  and  my  Broche,  and  you  still 
are.  It  was  for  your  sake  thiS  they  took  me 
up.  Everything  else  you  know.  But  one 
thing  you  don't  know — how  happy  I  was  in 
my  poverty,  because  I  was  rich  in  having 
you.  Even  though  in  winter  I  didn't  have  a 
warm  dress  to  put  on  my  body,  I  felt  wealthy 
as  the  queen  of  spades  when  I  was  lead- 
ing you  by  the  hand.  And  when  I  heard 
your  little  voice  or  the  sound  of  your  vio- 
lin, it  seemed  to  me  my  father  was  laughing 
in  Gan-Eden,  and  I  would  have  liked  it  best 
for  no  one  to  hear  you  except  him  and  me. 
Now  can  you  understand,  my  crown,  what 
went  on  inside  of  me  because  you  had  to  play 
in  the  church?  But  don't  let's  speak  of  it 
any  more.  It's  past.  And  supposing  it  was 
a  sin,  you  made  up  for  it  ten  times  over 
when  you  sacrificed  your  heart  for  God  and 
your  mother.  You  ransomed  my  soul  with 
God  Almighty;  on  Judgment  Day  your 
369 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Sechus  will  stand  your  poor  mother  in  good 
stead!" 

She  sank  her  head  sobbing  on  the  girl's 
breast,  and  Reinchen  put  her  thin  arms 
about  her  mother's  neck.  Raschelchen  heard 
the  ominous  throbbing  of  her  heart,  and 
started  up  in  fright. 

"  Don't  excite  yourself,  my  soul ! "  she 
cried,  and  stroked  the  beloved  head,  which 
she  allowed  to  sink  back  gently  on  the  pillow. 

The  autumn  wind  began  to  rob  the  trees 
in  the  garden  of  their  foliage.  With  great 
wide-open  eyes  Reinchen  stared  out  upon 
the  golden  leaves  softly  whirling  in  the  air. 
Once  she  whispered: 

"  I  wonder  whether  I'll  see  the  trees  green 
again." 

"  What  nonsense  you're  talking ! "  her 
mother  chided  her.  "  How  can  anything 
happen  to  you  ?  The  Lord  knows  what  you 
are!" 

One  day  when  Raschelchen  was  out  walk- 
370 


RASCHELCHEN 


ing,  a  woman  who  had  been  a  neighbor  of 
hers  on  the  narrow  street  stopped  her  to  in- 
quire for  the  "  dear  girl." 

"  Have  you  heard  the  neWs,  Mrs.  Pic- 
card  ?  "  she  asked  Raschelchen.  "  Christian 
Engelbrecht  has  had  a  great  piece  of  luck. 
A  baker's  daughter  in  Vienna  fell  in  love 
with  him,  and  married  him,  and  brought  him 
a  three-story  house  with  many  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  gulden !  '* 

Raschelchen  shook  her  head,  and  smiled 
scornfully. 

"  That's  the  way  the  Goy  is,"  she  mur- 
mured to  herself. 

Should  she  tell  Reinchen?  Perhaps  if 
Reinchen  heard  how  quickly  Engelbrecht 
had  forgotten  her,  the  last  shadow  of  recol- 
lection would  vanish  from  the  child's  heart, 
and  her  recovery  would  be  hastened.  But 
no,  rather  not  mention  the  hated  name! 
Nevertheless  Raschelchen  felt  uneasy. 
Nothing  oppressed  her  more  than  doubt. 
How  could  she  have  endured  her  beloved 

371 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

child's  invalidism  so  quietly,  had  she  not 
had  the  certainty  that  her  Reinchen's  sacri- 
fice was  a  Mitzve  which  God  must  requite 
with  complete"  feco very. 

"  God  is  a  righteous  judge,"  she  often 
murmured  to  herself.  "  As  he  punished  me, 
so  must  he  reward  my  Reinchen." 

She  calmly  looked  upon  her  child  lying 
with  bound  hands  upon  the  wood  of  the  of- 
fering; for  she  knew  the  Angel  of  the  Lord 
was  near  to  stay  the  drawn  knife  and  an- 
nounce her  child's  salvation. 

And  the  redeeming  angel  was  near! 

The  great  holidays  arrived.  This  year 
they  fell  late,  in  October,  when  the  autumn 
wind  beat  upon  the  window  panes  of  the 
gardener's  house.  While  all  the  other  Jew- 
ish women  clad  in  white  garments  were 
praying  in  the  Temple,  Raschelchen  sat  at 
the  bed  of  her  child,  whose  breath  came 
softly  but  quickly.  Two  candles  burned  on 
the  white  cloth  covering  the  little  table,  and 
a  bunch  of  late  monthly  roses,  pale  and  dy- 
372 


RASCHELCHEN 


ing,  breathed  their  perfume  over  the  sick- 
bed. 

Reinchen  started  up  as  from  a  dream,  and 
stretched  out  her  thin  hand  for  the  violin 
hanging  over  her  bed. 

"  What  do  you  want,  my  precious  ?  " 

"  The  vioHn/'  gasped  the  girl. 

Raschelchen  paused  to  consider  whether 
she  ought  to  give  her  the  violin  on  the  sa- 
cred New  Yearns  Eve.  But  sick  people  are 
allowed  everything.  She  clim.bed  on  the 
bed,  and  unhooked  the  violin  from  the  nail. 
Reinchen  put  out  her  hands  for  it,  and 
pressed  a  long  kiss  on  the  loose  strings. 
Tears  welled  up  in  her  great  eyes,  and  she 
regarded  the  instrument  with  unspeakable 
tenderness. 

"  I  dreamed,"  she  whispered,  "  I  dreamed 
I  played  on  it — the  sonata  in  F,  and — "  she 
shook  her  head  softly  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  You  will  play  it  again,  my  blessed 
child,"  exclaimed  the  mother,  "  and  more 
beautifully  than  ever!  Do  you  know  what 
373 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Fve  decided  to  do?  When  you  are  entirely 
well — God  grant  it — I  will  go  with  you  and 
let  you  play  for  audiences  wherever  you 
want.  You  and  I  alone!  Should  I  be 
ashamed  because  I'm  an  old  Jewess?  If  I 
am,  aren't  you  my  child  ?  And  nobody  need 
see  me.  I'll  only  dress  you,  in  beautiful 
new  dresses.  Mrs.  Biiding  told  me  she'd 
give  you  a  trousseau  as  if  you  were  a  Kalle. 
Mrs.  Spohr  will  give  us  letters,  too,  to  all 
the  fine  musicians,  and  when  you  play,  I'll 
stand  behind  the  door  through  which  you 
go  out,  with  a  little  shawl  ready  in  my  hand, 
so  that,  God  forbid,  you  shouldn't  catch  a 
cold.  Isn't  it  so,  my  heart,  I  may?  And 
then  we'll  travel  on  farther  and  farther,  un- 
til we  reach  Metz,  where  I'll  show  you  and 
be  proud  of  you.  Well,  what  do  you  say  to 
it,  my  child?" 

Reinchen  seemed  scarcely  to  hear  her 
mother's  chatter.  Her  eyes  were  fastened 
on  the  violin. 

"  I  dreamed  I  was  playing  the  sonata  by 

374 


RASCHELCHEN 


Beethoven,   you  know — "   her  transparent 

fingers  touched  the  strings  to  indicate  the 

theme    of    the    adagio    movement — "  and 

Christian — was  sitting  at  the  spinet — and 
»> 

The  mother  shrank  at  the  name. 

"Don't  speak  to  me  of  the  'Goy  any 
more,"  she  burst  out.  "  You  mustn't  think 
of  him !    He  married  in  Vienna,  and — " 

She  could  not  continue.  She  would  have 
recalled  the  words  with  her  life,  for  Rein- 
chen  stared  at  her  with  eyes  from  which  her 
soul  seemed  to  be  issuing  forth.  As  if  im- 
pelled by  some  invisible  force,  the  emaciated 
body  reared  up,  both  hands  clutched  convul- 
sively at  her  heart,  and  a  stream  of  blood 
gushed  from  the  compressed  lips. 

"  Shema  Yisroel !  "  shrieked  the  mother, 
and  threw  herself  on  the  dying  child. 

The  scream  brought  the  gardener's  peo- 
ple running.     They  sent  for  the  women's 
Chevre,  who  had  to  tear  the  unconscious 
mother  from  the  body  of  her  child. 
376 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

Aunt  Channe,  leaving  the  women  watch- 
ers in  the  garden-house,  turned  her  attention 
to  Raschelchen,  whom  she  had  taken  to  her 
own  home  in  a  sedan-chair.  She  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  her  out  of  the  faint  into 
which  she  had  fallen,  and  Raschelchen 
stared  at  the  strange  surroundings  as  if  half 
asleep. 

"  Is  my  Reinchen  dead  ? "  she  finally 
asked. 

"  Praised  be  the  Judge  of  truth !  "  was  my 
aunt's  rejoinder,  in  the  words  of  the  prayer 
said  over  the  dead. 

Raschelchen  shook  her  head  incredu- 
lously. 

"  It  can't  be,"  she  said.  "  If  God  is  just, 
how  can  my  Reinchen  be  dead  ?  " 

"  The  ways  of  God  are  inscrutable,"  re- 
joined the  pious  old  woman. 

Raschelchen  lapsed  into  deeper  and  deeper 
broodings. 

"  My  child  died  of  a  broken  heart,"  she 
murmured.  "Am  I  to  blame?  I  don't 
376 


RASCHELCHEN 

know !  If  it  is  right  for  a  child  to  leave  her 
parents  and  cleave  to  her  husband,  as  is 
written  in  the  Torah,  then  what  was  my 
sin?  But  if  it  is  right  for  a  child  to  sacri- 
fice her  heart  and  obey  her  parents,  as  is 
written  in  the  Torah,  what  was  her  sin? 
Somebody  ought  to  know  what  is  right  and 
what  is  wrong,  if  my  Reinchen  must  die  in 
the  bloom  of  her  youth." 

Suddenly  she  shrieked,  and  jumped  from 
her  chair. 

"  I  want  to  go  to  my  child.  Don't  be 
afraid,  Mrs.  Channe,  I  know  what  I  am  do- 
ing. I  know  my  child  is  dead,  and  I  know 
I  must  live.  But  let  me  go  to  my  child,  for 
God's  sake!" 

Aunt  Channe  could  not  restrain  her.  As 
if  driven  by  a  storm,  she  flew  back  to  the 
gardener's  house,  and  frightened  the  watch- 
ers by  her  appearance.  They  expected  to 
see  her  commit  some  act  of  desperation. 
But  she  merely  pulled  back  the  cover  that 
hid  her  beloved  child's  face,  and  regarded 
377 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

the  beautiful,  rigid  features.  Then  she 
seated  herself  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
shook  her  head,  and  murmured  words  that 
nobody  understood. 

On  account  of  the  holiday,  the  corpse 
could  not  be  removed  for  two  days.  During 
the  whole  time  the  mother  sat  there  repelling 
all  efforts  to  draw  her  to  rest  or  give  her 
nourishment.  When  the  time  came  for  the 
burial,  she  permitted  no  one  else  to  dress 
Reinchen  and  lay  her  in  the  coffin.  She 
shoved  the  violin  that  the  dying  girl  had 
held  pressed  to  her  breast  under  the  straw 
pillow  on  which  Reinchen's  head  lay,  and 
strewed  all  the  wilted  roses  over  the  dead 
body.  When  the  orthodox  women  wanted 
to  keep  her  from  committing  this  sin,  she 
looked  at  them  searchingly. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  a  sin  ?  "  she  cried. 

Then  she  kneeled  next  to  the  coffin,  and 
whispered  a  long,  long  time  into  her  child's 
ear,  as  if  she  were  chatting  with  her.     The 
women  caught  only  a  few  broken  words. 
378 


RASCHELCHEN 


"You'll  speak  in  my  behalf,  won't  you? 
You'll  wait  for  me,  Reinchen,  my  precious! 
Soon — soon !  " 

Almost  the  entire  community,  as  well  as 
Ludwig  Spohr  and  his  wife,  attended  the 
funeral.  Since  women  are  not  allowed  in 
the  burying  ground  on  such  occasions, 
Raschelchen  slipped  to  the  scene  by  by- 
ways, and  hid  herself  in  the  hedge. 

The  women  of  the  community  subscribed 
a  modest  pension  for  her,  and  found  a  lodg- 
ing with  good  people.  She  begged  and 
pleaded,  however,  to  be  permitted  to  stay  in 
the  little  house  in  the  village  next  to  the 
cemetery,  where  the  invalids  of  the  commu- 
nity are  cared  for.  Her  request  was 
granted.  She  spent  weeks  there,  paying 
daily  visits  to  the  grave  of  her  child.  A 
short  time  after,  the  woman  who  washed 
corpses  died,  and  Raschelchen  applied  for 
the  position,  which  she  held  for  thirty  years. 
She  lived  exclusively  with  the  dead,  who 
were  the  messengers  of  her  greetings  of  love 
379 


STORIES  OF  JEWISH  HOME  LIFE 

to  Reinchen.     She  scarcely  had  any  inter- 
course whatsoever  with  the  living. 

One  Saturday  I  was  taking  a  walk  in  the 
grove  of  oaks  near  the  cemetery.  Though 
it  is  not  the  custom  for  anyone  to  visit  the 
cemetery  on  Sabbath,  there  was  the  figure 
of  the  old  woman  cowering  on  a  mound 
planted  with  many  flowers.  From  the  Fish 
House  a  short  distance  away  came  the  soft 
trembling  notes  of  a  violin.  I  saw  Raschel- 
chen  raise  her  hands  to  Heaven.  A  deep 
sigh  escaped  her  bosom,  as  if  she  wanted  to 
expel  her  soul  by  force,  I  stepped  nearer  to 
her,  filled  with  sympathy.  She  started.  But 
then  her  dim  eyes  regarded  me  searchingly. 
She  appeared  to  wish  to  speak  to  me. 

"  Do  you  know  me  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  know  you  ?  I  buried 
your  little  sister  Estherchen.  There  she  lies 
at  the  hedge  next  to  the  willow.  And  your 
parents,  may  God  reward  them,  always  were 
good  to  me." 

380 


RASCHELCHEN 


"  Haven't  the  many,  many  years  been 
able  to  still  your  pain?  "  I  asked  her,  deeply 
moved. 

"  Yes,  yes,  it's  many,  many  years,"  she 
murmured.  "  How  many  ?  I  haven't 
counted  them.  My  heart  has  grown  still, 
but  my  head!  I  have  been  breaking  my 
head  over  it  for  twenty  years  and  more. 
Should  a  poor  girl  cleave  to  her  husband  or 
to  her  parents?  What  is  right?  What  is 
wrong?  If  both  are  written  in  the  Torah? 
You're  a  learned  man — how  do  you  explain 
it  that  I'm  alive  and  she's  dead  ?  When  will 
I  find  out  ?    How  long  will  it  still  last  ?  " 

It  did  not  last  much  longer.  Did  she  find 
out  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong  ?  Who 
can  tell? 


881 


GLOSSARY 


GLOSSARY 


(AU  fpords  ffiven  helow,  unless  otherwise  specified,  are 
Hebrew.  The  transliteration  aim9  to  reproduce  the  col- 
loquial pronunciation  of  Hebrew  words  by  Oerman  Jews.) 


Arba-Kanfes.  Lit.  "  four 
corners."  A  garment  with 
fringes.  See  Num.  XV, 
38. 

Atin  hora.     The  evil  eye. 

Bab-Mitz\-ah.  Religious  ma- 
jority, at  the  age  of  thir- 
teen, when  a  Jewish  lad  Is 
expected  to  take  all  re- 
ligious duties  upon  him- 
self. 

Bensh  GOMEL.  To  pronounce 
a  blessing  for  escape  from 
danger. 

Boles  {Oer.  t).  A  sort  of 
cake. 

Bkoche.     a  benediction. 

Chammeh.     Ass;  donkey. 

Chbt.    Grace. 

Chbtsb.    Society. 

Chbtbs  Kadishb.  noly  bro- 
therhood ;  the  society  that 
prepares  the  dead  for 
burial. 

Chosk.x.    Bridegroom. 

CHxriTB.    Marriage  canopy. 

Dabsher.  To  expound  homl- 
letlcally. 

Dbosbb.  a  sermon;  a 
homily. 

Gah-Bdkk.    Paradise. 

Got  (pi.  GoTiM).  A  non> 
Jew. 


Groschen  iOer.).  A  small 
coin. 

Gulden  (Oer.).    A  florin. 

Hallel.  Lit.  "  praise." 
Psalms  CXIII  to  CXVIIL 
On  the  New  Moon,  only 
certain  portions  of  this 
collection  are  recited, 
which  are  called  "  half- 
nallel." 

Heller  (Oer.).  A  small  coin. 

.Tcdenoassb  (Oer.).  Jews* 
Street. 

Judenshul  (Oer.).  Syna- 
gogue. 

Kalle.     Bride;  afllanced. 

KiDDURH.  Lit.  "  sanctiflca- 
tlon,"  The  ceremony  usher- 
ing in  the  Sabbath  or  a 
holiday. 

KiDDUsH  ha-Shem.  Sanctl- 
flcatlon  of  the  Holy  Name. 

KiLLE.  Jewish  congregation ; 
Jewish  community. 

KORiM.  Kneeling.  "  Fall  Ko- 
rlm,"  to  prostrate  onesolf, 
particularly  at  certain 
prayers  on  the  Day  of 
Atonement,  etc. 

Kosher.    Rltually  permitted. 

KoTED.     Honor. 

-LEB  (Oer.  Leben).  Dear, 
my  love ;  my  life. 


385 


GLOSSARY 


Lecho  Dodi.  Lit.  "  Come, 
my  beloved."  The  refrain 
of  the  hymn  with  which 
the    Sabbath    is   welcomed. 

Lo  KOM.  Such  has  never 
been,  and  will  never  be 
again !  See  Deut.  XXXIV, 
10. 

LuACH.     Calendar. 

Matzos.     Unleavened  bread. 

Mazel.    Luck. 

Menuvelte.  a  homely,  un- 
gainly girl. 

Meshobes.  Assistant ;  serv- 
ant. 

MiNCHA.     Afternoon  service. 

MiNYAN.  A  company  of  ten 
men,  the  minimum  for  a 
public  service. 

MiTZVE.  Duty ;  command ; 
charity ;  the  fulfilment  of 
a  command. 

MosHE  Rabbend.  Moses  our 
teacher. 

MiJHMLE  (Ger.).  Diminutive 
of  MuHME,     Aunt ;  cousin. 

Nebbich  (Slavic).  An  ex- 
pression of  pity  or  sympa- 
thy. Poor  thing  !  Alas  ! 
Too  bad! 

NiGDN.     Traditional  chant. 

Omen  vb-Omen.  Amen  and 
Amen. 

OviNU  Malkenu.  Lit.  "  Our 
Father,  our  King."  Be- 
ginning of  the  lines  of  a 
well-known  prayer. 

Pahness.  The  head  of  a 
congregation ;  the  presi- 
dent. 


Pasken.  To  decide  accord- 
ing to  the  Rabbinic  law. 

Pesach.    Passover. 

PuRiM.  The  Feast  of  Esther. 

Rav.    Officiating  rabbi. 

Reb.     Mr. 

Rebbetzin.    Wife  of  a  rabbi. 

Reichsthalek  (Ger.).  A 
dollar,  the  unit  of  the  cur- 
rency. 

ROSHE.  A  malicious  person  ; 
an  Anti-Semite. 

SCHLEMiHLTE.  Feminine 

form    of    SCHLEMIHL. 

SCHNAPPSCHEN  (Ger.).  A 
"  drop  "  of  whisky. 

SCHNORR   (Ger.).     To  beg. 

SCHNORREK    ( Ger. ) .     Beggar. 

Sechie.  Advantage  ;  privi- 
lege ;  joy. 

Sechus.     Merit ;  privilege. 

Seder.  Home  service  on  the 
first  two  nights  of  the 
Passover. 

Shabbes.  Sabbath. 

Shabuos,     Pentecost. 

Shadchonim.  (pi.).  Mar- 
riage brokers. 

Shammes.  Verger  ;  beadle  ; 
sexton. 

Shem  Yishmerenu.  The 
Lord  preserve  us  ! 

Shema  Yisroel.  Hear,  O 
Israel ! 

Shicksel  (Ger.  suffiso). 
Drastic  expression  for  a 
non-Jewish  girl. 

Shiddech.  Betrothal ;  an 
arranged  match. 


386 


GLOSSARY 


Shib  ha-Ma'alos.  Lit. 
"  Song  of  the  Degrees." 
One  of  the  fifteen  Psalms 
CXX  to  CXXXIV;  here, 
Ps.  CXXVI. 

Shitx.  Lit.  "  seven."  The 
seven  days  of  mourning 
immediately  after  a  death 
occurs  In  a  family. 

Shmues.  Hearsay ;  talk 
based  on  rumor. 

Shttss.     Nonsense ;  folly. 

Shul  (Oer.,  Schul')-  Syna- 
gogue. 

SiDDUB.     Prayer-book. 

SiODURL  {Oer.  suffix).  Di- 
minutive   of    SiDDUR. 

Succos.     Feast  of  Taberna- 
cles. 
Tachshid.  Jewel ;  ornament 
Tmrihus.     Phylacteries. 
Thales    (Qer.).     Dollar. 


TiSHO  BE-Av.  Ninth  Day  of 
Ab,  commemorating  the  de- 
struction of  the  First  and 
of  the  Second  Temple. 

TORAH.  The  Jewish  Law  in 
general,  and  the  Penta- 
teuch in  particular. 

ToRAS  MosHE.  The  Law  of 
Moses. 

Treifes.  RItually  unfit  for 
food. 

Trenderl  (Oer.).  A  sort  of 
top,  made  for  children  es- 
pecially on  Chanuccah. 

UXBEBUFEN       (OCK.) .         Ahsit 

omen! 
Unbe.schrieen   (Oer.).  Ahsit 

omen! 
Yeshive.     Talmudic  college. 
Yevorechecho.     [The  Lord] 

bless  thee ! 
YiDDB   (Qer.).     Jews. 


887 


BALTIMORE,  MD.,  U.  S.  A. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  Me  a'S&^sed  for  failure  to  return 

THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $1.00  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


SEP     6  1938 


SEP    S    1939 


"^pit^-lxu 


tUv 


i£ri 


Pil  27    1946 


"^ 


^ 


.Way?TCT 


ttc.  cii: 


tMav^lU' 


•2\T*5' 


^T^ 


?'^Fobggi 


W  fTACKS 


AUG  2  5  WH 


fl£C2  5 


1978 


AN     8  1379 


ta^^-h-^  p'n^.,^  mwi 


n  10 


YB  53032 


lv!27848 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


Wm 

IfflH 

